


Bad Places 3: Ruin

by GoblinCatKC



Series: Bad Places [3]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Gen, Psychological issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: Last in the Bad Places trilogy. As nightmares walk New York's streets, Leonardo continues to lose himself in his warped genetics and growing violent urges.





	1. Chapter 1

Painting became a substitute for murder. A splash of blood from his enemy's throat, a stroke of black paint along smooth stone. He curled the brush as he would his sword, creating a solid line that tapered at the end. Sheltered from the winter snow by the restaurant's awning, and with only the city's glare to see by, he created a soaring dragon in arcs and quick strikes. His joy came not in the design, since the owner had decided what shape the dragon would take. Instead he delighted in the creation, in sending the dragon out of the brush and onto the wall while imitating the precise cuts that his sword would make.

In the months after their return to New York, painting also became his refuge. His family had no idea that he'd turned this into his outlet for slaughter. They suspected that he hadn't crushed his instinct to kill, but they didn't know he'd channeled his precision strikes into strokes and graceful sweeps. That his sword, re-shaped into a brush, still danced in his hand, and that paint, in the shadowy light, was the same color as blood.

Finally the dragon was finished, frozen around the door and windows of the restaurant. He stood back and stared at it, pleased at first, but little by little he saw imperfections, saw that he should have raised the front arm a little higher, opened the mouth a little wider. The smooth strokes looked like splatters, as if he'd sliced someone's throat and turned them so that the blood sprayed the wall. He'd wanted to replicate one of the calligraphy dragons in his master's scrolls. Instead, this dragon looked messy. Childish.

"Might as well of used crayons," he muttered. He hoped his brothers never saw it.

His shellcell beeped. He dropped the brush in the mottled duffel bag he carried everything in and glared at the little green transceiver. Raphael had made him promise not to drop it, but the blinking green light in the corner told him that the device was showing his brother exactly where he was and it annoyed him. With an exasperated sigh, he flipped it on. "Leo here. What's up?"

"Hey, Leo," April said. "You done over there?"

"Just finished," he said, kneeling and zipping the duffel. "And I thought we talked about these interruptions."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she said. "But I need to go shopping and the stores'll be closing soon."

"Well, I _am_ finished so no harm done," he said lightly. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. Ever since he'd come home, she needed a few minutes to relax around him again, to reassure herself that he was still Leo and not the thing twisting around in his genetics. "You're almost out of paint and you need new brushes. And I need more office supplies and a new register. Casey just ruined this one."

Faintly he heard Casey's voice squawk in protest, but April ignored him. Leo nodded once. "You need to hit the store?"

"Yup. Do you mind? You're the closest and everyone else complains if they have to carry everything."

No wonder she was calling, he realized. He was her only option. "No problem. I'll be there in a couple minutes."

Slinging the bag over his back, he made sure everything was secure and the shellcell safely in his belt before using the fire escape in the alley to reach the roof. The rooftops were easier to cross than running through the streets trying to avoid the people that came out in this neighborhood at night. Most of the ones who did lurk around at night already knew about the freaks that ruined their fun, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight. The last thing he needed was to arrive at April's place with blood on his swords.

A few minutes later he landed on her rooftop and tossed his duffel bag into the closest window. She was already waiting for him on the front step, so he dropped down and perched on the window so he didn't have to sit in the snow, making sure she heard him so she wouldn't be startled.

"You ready?" he asked.

"All set. Let's go."

The only reason four turtles, one rat and one nervous human allowed April to walk alone at night was if she was not really alone. While she strolled on the sidewalk, just beyond the lamps and lit windows her escort followed out of sight. Silent and invisible, he shadowed her as their footsteps disappeared in the light January snow. And although he enjoyed getting out of the lair once in awhile, trudging through the ice on errands was not exactly leaping over rooftops and playing the ninja version of hide and seek with his siblings.

Leonardo didn't mind very much, though. At least his murals and these occasional errands got him out of the lair and away from his brothers and father. He knew they were just concerned for him, but their constant questions and attempts to bring him back into the family were making him withdraw even further into his room, sketching out ideas for his constant commissions. He was grateful for the amount of work April managed to find for him, even if it meant that he kept a brutal schedule.

As they walked through the snow, they passed his murals on several shops and other buildings. A large Mexican flag with an oversized eagle and cactus decorated one side of a grocery store while an angel hovered protectively over soldiers on a church wall. A new age shop that displayed pentagrams and sterling skulls in its windows also showed off the horned god and goddess on either side of its front door. He remembered struggling to get the faces just right, flipping through the various pictures that Donatello found online and printed out for him.

He had no idea how much they cost. April handled every last detail for him and since he let Splinter decide how things were spent, money never passed his hands. He preferred it that way. Not knowing let him paint without feeling guilty. No matter how often he was told his work was good, he couldn't believe it. Sometimes he admired how he shaded a wing or sculpted a line, but most of the time he saw only smudges, lines that were too bold, an arm drawn too long or one eye slightly lower than the other. He didn't want to see them in the daylight. It was bad enough looking at them at night.

Ever since coming home from the farm, they all noticed that despite Donatello's gene therapy, the only improvement they'd seen in him came in the form of behavioral changes. He ate almost normally now, slowly regaining lost weight and eating a few more things beyond soup and apples. He hadn't retreated into his memories of Stockman's game for months. The hundred different sounds in the lair, the water in the pipes beside his bed and the electric hum of Donatello's machines, no longer overloaded his mind. Although his differences still set him apart, at least he wasn't turning into that thing anymore.

He kicked at the deep snow and gave up trying to walk through it. There were few enough people outside that he could risk following April on the sidewalk where the snow had been cleared. He shivered as the snow came down harder.

"I still can't believe you make me work out in this weather," Leonardo grumbled, beginning a familiar conversation. Both of them knew he wasn't really upset, but it gave him the chance to vent. And a way to talk without April worrying that the conversation might take a darker turn.

"Quit complaining," she said, hiding her smile as she tugged up her jacket. "There are artists who'd kill to have commissions year round."

"But painting in this weather? My brushes are cracking, the paint is freezing, and I don't like being stuck in the snow for hours very much either," Leo said.

"I thought you artists were happiest when you're suffering for your work."

"Oh sure, it's great suffering. It's so much fun I'll drag you with me next time so you can enjoy being cold and wet, too."

"You should be happy," April said. "Do you know how hard it is to get commissions for a muralist who refuses to be seen? Most people like watching the design go up on their wall, you know."

"I don't think I've had a single spare night," he said.

"You're exaggerating."

"Four murals and I've only been back for a couple months. I'm lucky one of them was an abstract bunch of lines or I probably would've dropped dead."

"It can't be..." April fell silent as they passed a young couple hurrying home. As soon as they were out of earshot, April continued. "It can't be too much. Splinter would never let this interfere with your practice."

He didn't answer for a moment. Splinter was so eager to get him out of the house and away from any sense of obligation that he wondered if his master would let his training lapse a little. Life didn't seem nearly as demanding as it had before and there had to be some explanation for it. He spent less time polishing and sharpening the weapons, spent more time flipping through his art books, and was surprised to occasionally sleep in after a long night of painting. Then again, he was usually nursing sore muscles and bruises from regular sparring with his siblings who didn't pull their punches just because he was a little weaker...no, they wouldn't let him lapse. But he did seem to have a lot of time to himself, which probably meant that Splinter and Raphael were handling some of the family chores and duties that he used to perform. On one hand he felt like he was neglecting his responsibilities, but on the other hand he didn't miss waking them all up in the morning.

"I think Master Splinter's going to ask me to do something on his bedroom wall," he half-complained, half-bragged. "He just hasn't made up his mind what it should be."

"Look on the bright side," she said. "At least you won't be painting in the cold."

"At this rate my hands are going to fall off."

Several streetlamps along the next block were broken so he could walk a little closer. Their destination, a string of department stores that carried among other things new brushes and paints to replace his worn out supplies, was only a few more blocks ahead. Normally he would wait on the rooftop for her to finish shopping, before accompanying her back home where she'd run any new commissions by him.

A sudden high pitched hum made him look around, but he didn't see anything nearby. Leonardo frowned and shook his head quickly, trying to clear it. "That's weird. Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?" April titled her head up.

"It's like...almost like static electricity." He shook his head again, trying to clear it. "It's getting pretty loud, actually."

"No, I don't hear anything," she said. She took her hands out of her pockets and stretched out her arms, then touched her hair. "But I definitely feel something. You're right, it's like static. Look, I've got a couple strands floating."

"Wait." He put a hand on her arm, interrupting her. For several seconds they stood quietly as she watched him. The only sound was the snow landing around them and the streetlamp beside them flickering. He looked up at the block ahead and tilted his head as if listening carefully. "Something's wrong."

"What is it?" She looked up but she didn't see anything. If she hadn't known how sensitive his hearing had become, she would've thought he was playing a joke on her.

"I'm not sure." He tried to get rid of the ringing sound again but it only seemed to grow stronger.

And then they both heard a long, high-pitched screech not too far away. It was joined by several others, some human, some not, and as the screams came closer, they heard the scratches of claws on the icy pavement as something ran towards them.

"You hear that, too?" he whispered, hoping maybe he was just going insane again.

"What was that?" she gasped, taking a step back. "Leo, what was that?"

"I'll answer later, run!" He grabbed her hand and turned, leading her down the dark street. Behind them, the scratching and screeching grew louder until neither of them turned, afraid of what they might see.

"This way!" He pulled her to the left, ducking into an alley with a fire escape. A quick leap brought it down and he sent April up first, following after her until they were on the roof. She turned to ask him something but he shook his head and whispered, "no, don't talk. Stay quiet."

He knelt at the corner and peered over the edge. A handful of people ran by but there was no time to save them. Leaping and biting their human prey were Stockman's creatures, their familiar howls and cries echoing over the screams of their victims. Beside him, April covered her eyes and turned away, unwilling to watch, but he stared in morbid fascination as his old enemies ran through the street.

Sight wasn't important in Stockman's dark dimension so he'd never had the chance to actually see them. Feeders, brownish humanoids with claws and fangs, loped along, slashing people apart with ease. All around them, running on the sides of buildings followed what he had called screamers, pale four-legged creatures that seemed to be all stomach and jaws. A young man slipped on the ice and immediately screamers descended on him like spiders, covering him for a few seconds as his shrieks died and blood sprayed in all directions.

Now that he had a chance to watch them, Leo could see the vague team work they used. True, they quickly turned on their injured whenever the opportunity arose, but the feeders led the way, wounding their prey while the screamers swamped the fallen. Without narrow hallways to confine their movements, nothing could escape their claws.

April knelt down next to him, covering her ears so she wouldn't have to hear the slaughter going on beneath them. He didn't care about the screams and scratching, but the static hum seemed to drill into his head. It turned so loud that it sounded like wailing and started to hurt. He looked at April but she didn't seem to hear it at all.

He didn't know what made him look up at the rooftops surrounding them. He could barely hear anything over the static, and the monsters below were screeching loud enough to drown out any other noise. Still, he remembered that screamers and feeders were not the only monsters he'd faced in the game, so he was not surprised to see the demon leaping over rooftops, mouth gaping wide, white eyes focused entirely on the two creatures in front of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Without thinking, Leo grabbed April's hand and tried to pull her to her feet. He wasn't strong enough but he did get her attention and as she glanced at him, she followed his look to several buildings away. Her night vision was nowhere near as acute as his but she had no problem seeing the moonlight gleaming on the fangs and claws of the demon galloping towards them. Stumbling to her feet, she followed Leo as he tugged her towards the edge of the rooftop. She hesitated when she saw how high they were, but finally leaped the narrow gap to the next roof.

"Come on," Leo whispered harshly. "April, you have to run."

She nodded, but she'd never leaped over rooftops like he had. Alone, he might have been able to outrun it, but with her slowing him down, he knew it would catch up soon. The electric hum he'd heard before now turned deafening. If the screamers below started climbing up the walls, he wouldn't know until they were right on them.

Dodging vents and tv antennas while maneuvering over the occasional sloped architecture was hard enough without a layer of ice over everything and a monster on their heels. He leaped with the easy confidence that years of practice had given him, but April hesitated over every gap, distracted from the easy jump by the ground several stories below. He wanted to scream in frustration but kept his temper in check. He couldn't afford to lose control and besides, he remembered how he used to be paralyzed with fright only a few feet in the air.

He spotted a flat roof just up ahead and drew his swords. They would make their stand there. Thinking that the demon was at least one building over, he turned and nearly fell off the ledge. The demon's fangs missed him as he slipped backwards, his upturned swords slicing the white belly completely by accident. Blood dribbled down the blades and onto his arms, but the cuts weren't deep and it landed easily on the next roof, right next to April.

She threw herself to the side as it lunged at her, its claws scrabbling noisily on the ice. Its jaws snapped where her head had been, then missed again as she grabbed a pipe jutting out of the cement and pulled herself forward, jumping to her feet again. This time she landed on a thick sheet of ice and her feet slid out from under her. Her fall saved her life as its claws swiped over her head, but now she couldn't move and she was right in front of its face. As if in slow motion, she watched as its eyes rolled back in its head, its jaws opened as wide as they could, and it drew its head back to strike.

Blood splashed her face as a sword caught the demon just under the jaw, forcing the head up and slicing deep into the skin. Its roar of pain made her ears ring, and another sword stroke along its face splattered her clothes with blood and with part of its eye. Startled out of her shock, she tried to escape to her left but it slammed a heavy paw down beside her, not trying to block her in but inadvertently doing so as it faced off against the feeder-like creature with the long claws.

She quickly crawled to her right, standing up behind Leonardo. For several seconds nothing happened. Leo and the demon both stared at each other, both breathing hard. Slowly, trying not to provoke it into acting, he gently pushed one of his swords into April's hands.

"Leo..." she whispered, holding it shakily. "I can't...it's too fast..."

"You can," he whispered back, not looking at her. "Just stay out of my way and strike when you have the chance."

About to ask her if she could hear anything crawling up the walls towards them, he had to dodge right as the demon moved again. Its massive paws, more like hands with claws, curled into the ice, letting it turn faster. Its tail swung around as it slithered after him, moving as fast as a cobra. Although half-blinded, it kept its one eye turned towards him, and Leo guessed that it could hardly hear anything either.

It swiped at him, he ducked and tried to cut its paw off, but only a couple of severed fingers hit the roof. Arterial blood spurted over the cement and ice as it screamed again and turned, whipping its tail around and hitting his shoulder. As he fell, he inwardly cursed. He'd become so slow that now that he faced an old enemy, he felt like he was made of lead. He hit the floor sideways, nearly cutting himself as he landed awkwardly, but he managed to get his sword up between him and its fangs as it dove down at him. His sword neatly cut its mouth straight down the middle, and as it reared up again, its lower jaw flapped uselessly in two pieces.

It roared again as April's sword cut down into its tail, but the bones and muscles near the base were extremely thick and the blade stuck fast. She yelped as it wrenched the sword from her hands, twisting sideways to face her again, but she had no time to move out of the way.

She didn't have to. Turning around made the demon present the stuck sword right in front of Leonardo, who used it as leverage to pull himself onto its back. Using all of his strength, he rammed his sword deep into its neck, then jerked the sword up once, hoping to cut its head open. But this was not the game with its natural adrenalin boosts, and when it reared up on its tail, he lost his grip and slid off its back. He landed on his feet and jumped out of the way of its claws as it came back down, but now neither he nor April had a sword. They both backed up towards the ledge, but there was no way they could cross to the next roof without one of them being snatched back.

Enraged by pain, the demon turned, coiled its tail under itself and lunged. Leo shoved April out of the way and tried to follow, but its claws gouged into his neck and shoulder and its weight dragged him backwards. When they landed, he could feel its claws digging in deeper, feel his blood rushing out. His body ran cold even as he grabbed its arm and tried to force it off of him. The ice helped him slip away but the claws buried in him refused to budge. He had to tear himself free, scrambling backwards with one hand clamped over the wound.

He expected another bite or slash, but he heard it scream again and looked up. April had managed to get around it and jerk on the sword stuck in its tail. The demon instinctively whipped around, raising its claw to strike...and instead fell over on its side. Its tail thrashed against the cement, it howled pitifully as its mutilated snout rubbed against the ice, and then it lay completely flat, dead.

Thinking that April had somehow cut its throat, Leo got to his feet and staggered around its body. To his surprise, April stood with nothing in her hands and a steaming puddle of blood and entrails around her feet. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the two long gashes in its belly from which its insides had suddenly spilled, hurled from its body as it turned too fast.

She breathed hard, her body shaking as she nudged its bloody paw. With a relieved breath, she looked up at him and immediately froze in horror. "Oh God, Leo..." Stepping closer, she pulled off her scarf and pushed it against the profusely bleeding wound.

"It's not that bad," he lied, "just messy. We have to get out of here." He was proud at how his voice didn't shake and how he didn't tremble as he retrieved his swords. "Are those things still in the street?"

She looked over the roof's ledge and nodded. "Not as many. There's no one left down there for them to...um...yeah. Just a handful of the big ones eating..." her voice trailed off.

"Good," he said. "We can get by the big ones." He walked over to the fire escape attached to the side and gestured for her to follow. "Stay with me and don't make any noise."

"Where are we going?"

"To the lair--wait." He fumbled for his shellcell and tossed it to her. "Call Casey. Tell him to stay put and stay quiet."

He scanned the alley while she made the call, but she didn't take long. With one hand keeping pressure on the blood flow, he made his way as quietly as he could to the last level. He winced as he let the ladder drop, but to his surprise it wasn't as loud as he expected and nothing came running around the corner. He was in luck; the static hum drowning out most of the noise wasn't just affecting him. They spotted a manhole not five feet away and, though it took both of them to lift the cover, they were safely inside the maze of New York's underground tunnels before anything noticed them.

"Whoa..." he mumbled, grabbing her arm to balance himself.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she put her arm around his shoulder. "Dizzy?"

"No...not that. The static, it disappeared suddenly." He wondered if he would hear it again as they passed by open culverts but there was nothing except April's nervous deep breaths and the melted snow dripping down the pipes.

"You think maybe it had something to do with those monsters being here?" she asked.

"I don't hear anymore screams," he said. "It can't be a coincidence." He pushed down harder on his wound, wincing with pain, but the blood stopped welling up over his fingers finally. "Call Raph, let him know we're coming and to keep everyone inside."

She nodded and flipped the shellcell open again, her breath frosting in the air as she waited for an answer. A moment later Raphael's face appeared on the screen.

"Leo, it's about time you--holy crap, April, are you okay?"

For a moment she didn't know what had startled him, but she caught her reflection in the dark parts of the screen. Demon blood still covered her face and shoulders. She dug a handkerchief out of one pocket while she answered. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she said, "none of its mine."

"But what happened--?"

"I'll tell you about it when we get there," she said, wiping her face as best she could. "Leo said to tell you to keep everyone inside."

"No problem," Raph said. "Where's Leo? Is he all right?"

"Um...no, not really." She glanced at him but Leo shook his head, not in the mood to talk to his overprotective siblings. "He got a pretty nasty slash, but I think it's stopped bleeding."

"'Slash'?" Raphael echoed. "What the hell? April, what--?"

"Just turn on the tv," she said. "We'll be there soon enough. And don't let anyone go out, those things might be running around somewhere."

She clicked the shellcell off and stuck it in a pocket, then finished wiping her face and hands. "I can't wait to take a shower and get this off. I'm soaked through."

Leo glanced at her with a faint smile. "You did pretty good up there," he said softly. "I don't think I would've survived alone."

"You saved my life first," she argued, wringing her handkerchief out. "Everything happened so fast, I couldn't follow you half the time. You and thing were just...so fast."

"No..." He shook his head but stopped as it pulled on the gash in his shoulder. "I felt like I was fighting in water, and with all that space to fight...it was a lot easier killing them in cramped hallways."

As she put her ruined handkerchief away, April opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. After another minute, she tried again.

"I owe you an apology," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked. "You haven't done anything--"

"I have..." she said. "Ever since you came back--not from the farm, I mean, from Stockman's dimension--I've treated you like one of his experiments."

Feeling extremely awkward, he lowered his head a little. "It's not your fault. You saw me kill all those people."

"It wasn't just that," she said slowly, considering her words carefully. "That was one of the bigger things...but it wasn't just... It's little things, really. The way you tilt your head, the way you walk, even the way you stand, they're all different. It's not even that noticeable, but it's like you're more alert, more aware. It's like when Klunk's stalking a mouse."

Like a predator, he thought. "I hadn't noticed," he said.

"I know, that's what made it so hard. You were just so scary, even though I knew you wouldn't hurt me." She smiled suddenly. "I guess I'm kind of glad that thing attacked."

"'Glad'?" he repeated. "That thing nearly killed us."

"Yeah, but...I realized something. If you hadn't stopped it, I'd be dead. And if I hadn't learned a little bit of how to use a sword, we'd both be dead. You're still scary," she said, looking at him to make sure he knew that hadn't changed, "but you're the scary guy between me and the bad things out there."

He smiled in understanding. "Don't let Raph hear you say that. He thinks he's the scariest turtle around."

"Tch," she scoffed. "He's a big softie. He cries at old movies."

Laughing hurt so he forced himself not to, but he listened as April continued to list all the things Raphael tried to hide so he wouldn't be teased. Her babbling helped both of them, calming her down while providing him a kind of focus as they walked, something to take his mind off the throbbing pain along his neck and shoulder. He knew the would couldn't be fatal or else he'd be dead by now, but with breeders running loose in New York, he couldn't afford a serious injury. By the time they spotted the lair's main entrance, both of them were starting to shiver as the blood on them turned cold and started to freeze.

The moment they walked in, Leonardo was surrounded by his siblings and father while April excused herself to take a hot shower. Splinter gently forced Leo's hand away from the wound. To his relief, although it was still bleeding, it flowed sluggishly.

"Sit down," Splinter ordered him, leaving him on the couch while Donatello disappeared into the sick room to gather up bandages and, Leonardo feared, a needle and thread. Behind him, Raphael grabbed the afghan off one of the sofas and lay it over his brother's lap.

"Dude, what happened?" Mike asked, sitting down next to him. "That doesn't look like a sword wound, that looks like claw marks."

"They are," Leo said. Now that he was safe and able to relax, he felt exhausted and hurt and cold all at once. He sighed and leaned back, wincing as Splinter pulled what felt like tiny shards out of his shoulder. He glanced at one and recognized the demon's pale shade of white. It must have lost fragments of its claws when it hit him.

Before he could answer them, though, the images on the television caught his attention. The lair became quiet as they watched an aerial view of several feeders and screamers running along the city docks before vanishing into the darkness. He didn't know how they did it. One moment he saw them grouped in their familiar packs, the next moment they seemed to melt into the shadows.

But they weren't ninjas, he thought. How did they disappear?

A disturbing thought ran through him. With the beginnings of a major tension headache coming on, he glanced at Raphael. "You've got to get it sealed up," he mumbled.

"Huh?" Raphael stared at him and leaned closer. "Say what?"

"The stream..." Leo said. "Block it, cover it, something."

Raphael looked at the tv again as the news channel replayed the tape of breeders disappearing around the docks, then looked over at the stream that ran through the center of the lair. And remembered the last creature they'd fought in the game, a gigantic demon that swam through blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Metallic clanging and the whining of machinery woke Leonardo up. For a moment he didn't know where he was. Sleeping on the couch wasn't all that unusual, but not with the lights on and never when his brothers were awake. He moved to sit up and hissed as he pulled the wound at the base of his neck.

"Relax," came his youngest brother's voice. "Don't move too much."

Ignoring him, Leonardo sat up, albeit more carefully, and looked over the back of the couch. Donatello and Raphael stood on opposite sides of the stream and carefully lowered a section of iron gridwork that suspiciously resembled one of the grates the city used to block off large pipes. They would need at least two more sections to cover the stream and it was completely vulnerable until they finished, but he felt a little relief that they were working on it.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked.

"Just a few hours," Mike said. "You should go back to sleep. Splinter stitched that gash back together and bandaged it up, but you shouldn't move too much."

"I'll rest later," he said. "Could you get me the phone?"

"Huh?" Mike paused, staring at his brother. "Um, Casey's already on his way over here, if that's what--"

"Dammit, I told him..." Leo started, but he cut himself off. "No, I guess he'd be safer over here. But he's not who I'm calling."

Mike fished the phone from beneath the mess of computer and satellite equipment Donatello kept mounted beside the televisions. Dusting it off, he tossed it to his brother who caught it in mid-air. As Mike watched with growing curiosity, Leonardo dialed a long string of numbers before listening to a pre-recorded message, and then typing in another set of numbers that Mike quickly realized was a password. After several minutes of doing this, Mike started to wonder who Leo knew that stayed hidden within so many security measures.

As he finished the last password, Leo tilted his head and hesitated. He had no idea what came after this.

"You have reached a secure line," a woman's voice said over the phone. "State your name, rank and the officer you wish contact."

"Name, Leonardo," he answered in a low voice, wishing he'd done this while alone in his room. Michelangelo looked like he thought his brother had become delirious from blood loss. "Rank...um, ninja. I need to speak with Felix Erickson."

A long moment of silence passed, and he hoped he hadn't done something extremely stupid. He remembered Chanta saying that no one in the government would care about a family of mutants other than to make sure they were paying their taxes, but he was taking the word of a woman who'd been rather high on painkillers and Stockman's genetic tampering at the time. He especially didn't want a problem in front of Mike, who was looking at him in a mixture of shock and worry.

"Your request has been approved," the woman said. "Please stand by."

He let out a breath and waited. After a moment he heard a familiar voice on the line.

"Only one person I know with that rank," Felix said, laughing. " Man, I can't believe you actually called the D.O.D."

On hearing his voice, Leonardo visibly relaxed. Three months of fighting side by side in hell and watching each other's back left a lasting camaraderie that a year's absence could not erase. "Yeah, about halfway through I started wondering if this was really a good idea. What would've happened if I hung up?"

"The number'd be tracked and you'd have a bunch of men in black at your doorstep in ten minutes," Felix said. "Even if you are underground. Now, not that I mind hearing from an old friend, but I doubt this is a social call."

"You mean you haven't heard?" Leo asked.

"Heard what?"

"It's...no, you won't believe me. Got a tv nearby?"

"Yeah..." Felix's voice turned wary. "I've been so busy arranging...well, can't go over it on the phone, but let's just say we've been busy down here."

"Turn on the national news. And make sure you're sitting down."

A few seconds passed. Felix must have set his volume high, Leo thought, listening to the faint sound of the news reporter and the repeated clip of monsters running through the streets. When he didn't get a reply, he started to worry.

"You still there?" he asked.

"...yeah," Felix said slowly. "Is this...I mean, is it--? "

"It's for real," Leo said, understanding what he meant. "I was there when it happened."

"You wouldn't happen to know how they got out, would you?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Leo said. "I never got to see what happened to all of Stockman's equipment. Did your people keep it?"

"No, I watched them blow it up." Felix audibly sighed and leaned back hard in his chair. "God...those things running lose in New York--hey, are you all right? Those things aren't moving around underground, are they?"

"I'm fine so far," he said, ignoring Mike's snort. "Just a little chewed up. It's harder to fight them in the open. Felix...it's not just breeders that came through. I had to kill a demon up on a roof."

His friend muttered a long string of profanities. "Leo...stay underground. Let the army handle this. I'll check, make sure the guard's been mobilized. They can handle it better than you can, especially after my old debriefing's brought up again."

"To be honest," Leo said with a smile, "I wasn't exactly calling to ask for suggestions. I needed to know if you'd, I dunno, brought some of these things through and accidentally lost a handful of 'em."

"You thought we might've done this?" Felix asked, sounding offended. "Turn monsters loose on Americans? Are you nuts? Okay, on the Russians, maybe..."

"No," Leo said, laughing, but he sobered as he continued. "Because if you didn't do this, then that means I didn't kill him."

"Who? That Stockman guy? I saw you put a sword through him. If he ain't dead from that, what the hell would it take?"

"You have no idea how hard it is to kill that man." He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. A sudden thought struck him. "Wait, you had a debriefing on these things? And they believed you?"

"Well, the dead demon on the floor kinda backed me up," Felix said. "Had to go through a shitload of counseling, though, and--aw hell, look, I gotta go. I got another call waiting and I bet anything it's brass calling about this."

"Yeah, no prob. Later." He hung up the phone and realized that he actually hoped he didn't have to talk to Felix again. If the two of them spoke again or had to meet, that meant that the situation in New York would be even worse. Though if he was honest with himself, the situation could only get worse.

"Okay, now you're gonna rest," Mike said forcefully, taking the phone. "That wound won't get better if you keep moving around."

Leonardo glared at him but settled back down on the couch, listening as Raphael and Donatello worked to lower another section of iron bars over the stream. A few minutes later the sound of metal clanging on the floor was replaced by that of a welding torch. He didn't know how they expected him to rest with all of that noise, but as he closed his eyes and relaxed, he felt his brother lay a blanket over him so they obviously expected him to fall asleep somehow.

He must have been more tired than he thought, and his body wanted to rest even if his mind didn't. If it wasn't for his anxiety, he might have slept despite the noise. In their past fights, they always knew who their enemies were. Now he wasn't sure. If he was right and Stockman was still alive, then that meant he probably had another enemy since Stockman rarely did anything on his own. But who?

Even more frightening, at least to him, was knowing that he'd heard the strange electric static in the air when April couldn't. His hearing was far more sensitive than hers, but even so, the hum had been deafening. If she couldn't hear it, that meant it was more than just a sound. He knew he should tell Donatello about it, but he didn't want to know how far gone he really was. His brother's gene therapy would never change him back to normal, and at least it kept him from becoming a mindless killer, but he still didn't know exactly how much of a monster he'd become and how much of himself he'd retained. Thinking about it made him feel sick, but for now he didn't have to think about it. Behind the couch, the welding and clanging finally stopped, and to his relief he drifted off to sleep.

Across the lair, Raphael helped finish weld the second section of gridwork into place and then stood, stretching as he looked over their work. More than half of the stream was covered, but the rest of it was wide enough to allow a fairly large monster through. He sighed as he wondered where they would find another section to close it up properly, and he dreaded the thought of having to search when they could run into a pack of Stockman's things without warning, but there was no help for it. With one brother already injured, they couldn't afford a fight.

Why did it have to be monsters? If the enemy was anything else, normal humans, ninjas, aliens, they could get by without needing their big brother to hurt himself even more keeping them safe, but these particular monsters, though weak, survived on sheer speed and claws. After his prolonged stay in Stockman's game, his brother's further mutation made him the best suited to fight feeders and screamers and demons.

As Raphael left Donatello to finish up what he could with the scant material they had, he quietly walked towards the group of televisions and couches that made up their living room. His youngest brother sat in the recliner watching the news, having been forbidden from changing the channel if he got bored. But Raphael noticed that Mike kept a close eye on their brother, making sure the wound didn't reopen in his sleep.

The worst problem with being the defacto leader, Raphael had decided, was that he never knew when the weight of the clan would fall back on his shoulders, along with all the responsibilities that came with the job. Keeping his older brother from hurting himself trying to protect someone else was just one of the hardest tasks.

First things first, he thought. He needed to get Leo somewhere a little more quiet to rest, and he needed to do it without waking him up. His first instinct was to ask Splinter for help, but his master was busy in the kitchen with April. Deciding he could live with the overly long explanation if he asked Donatello to help with a sedative, he looked over his shoulder only to find his brother disappearing into his private work area. Curious, he followed.

Normally they all tried to avoid Donatello's lab. Dozens of computers in various states of disassembly, spare wires and tools decorated the floor and larger pieces of equipment and parts lay scattered around the work bench like furniture. His brother sat on something that resembled an engine while he scanned several sheets of paper as they came out from the printer.

"Hey, Don, got a minute?"

"Yeah...sure...just a sec'." Donatello pulled the last sheet free and studied it intently. "What on earth...this doesn't make any sense."

Raphael looked over his shoulder, but the multicolored double helixes and strings of letters meant nothing to him. "What is all that? DNA?"

"Yes, from the past year and a half..." Donatello spread the report out in front of him, lining the pages in such a way as the helixes flowed together. "Specifically, yours and Mike's and Leo's. But it doesn't make sense. Look..." He traced his finger along one helix. "This is Leo's. See how it blends with this new strain? The two come together almost seamlessly over a couple of months, and then the new strain starts to take over. You can even see where the injections have been making it recede."

Only because the strain Donatello mentioned was colored black against the blue helix could Raphael follow him. "It hasn't gone away, though."

"No, it hasn't...and he's been away from Stockman's pocket dimension for so long, it should have. At least, given his amount of exposure to the breeder's raw genetic material. But look here." Donatello pointed to the other two helixes on the page. "These belong to you and Mike, and even though you weren't in there as long as Leo was, your sample gives me enough time to calculate a rate of absorption and integration."

Raphael frowned. "What?"

Sighing as only one who is forced to dumb down his conversations can, Donatello glared at his brother. "You know, this isn't rocket science. If you would just pay attention when I explain something the first time--"

"Sparring with a sword or a sai ain't rocket science either," Raphael said, narrowing his eyes. "But I recall me an' Leo having to explain to someone over and over how to use 'em, and he still hasn't quite got the hang of it yet."

Donatello glared but he didn't sigh again, either. "The monster part of him absorbed faster into his system and affected him faster and harder than either of you two. Even compensating for his longer exposure time, my most extreme models show him mutating several years from now, and by then he should have fought it off without needing injections."

"So you're saying--"

"I'm saying that given what we know about his three months previous exposure, he still shouldn't have been affected so much or so fast."

Damn. Raphael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Damn. Donatello didn't suspect anything, but during the past year Raphael had developed a knack for noticing when Leo, who scrupulously didn't lie, was nevertheless hiding something. He didn't say anything, not yet, not before he had a chance to ask Leonardo himself and probably scream at him for acting stupid yet again.

"Maybe it was just that dive he took at the very end," he said, referring to when Leonardo had fallen with a demon into a deep pool of blood. Of course, he still hadn't told anyone that his brother's dive had been suicidal, but Leo had enough problems without dredging up the past.

"Maybe..." Donatello looked unconvinced and flipped the pages over again.

Raphael watched him work for a moment before remembering what he came in for, and now that Donatello was working, it took quite awhile to convince him to look up from his research. Especially when it was just to give Leo a sedative when he was already sleeping. Even more so when Raphael admitted that he was not going to use a needle if Donatello was around to do it. By the time he had his elder brother safely upstairs and out of the way, Casey had arrived downstairs and dinner was about to be served. With one more glance to make sure his brother was resting comfortably, he turned off the light and went down to the rest of his family.

"So there we were on the roof," April said, sitting on the couch as she waved her hands to illustrate, precariously balancing dinner on her lap. "And Leo gave me his sword and told me to stay ready 'cause it was gonna take both of us to kill it. And then suddenly it attacked and we both jumped to either side of it--"

Part of his brain noticed that the demon seemed to get bigger and faster each time she told the story, while both she and Leonardo grew more daring and cohesive, working together like partners. When he listened to her, though, he couldn't help smiling. Whatever fear she'd had of Leonardo before the fight was gone now. Maybe it was seeing that he was as vulnerable as she was or splashing a little blood on her face that did it. Either way, he liked seeing her unafraid of his sibling again.

However, for most of the evening, he wondered what his brother was hiding. No, what his brother had hidden for over a year. Which was odd, come to think of it. Leonardo normally didn't hide things, or at least Raphael hoped he didn't, and hiding something for such a long time meant that whatever secret Leo was keeping was probably pretty bad.

And considering everything that Leonardo had done in the past year, from nearly going insane to ripping out Shredder's heart to half-turning into a monster, the thought that his brother could still have one more secret scared him.


	4. Chapter 4

The darkness of his room took the edge off his headache, but he still groaned as he sat up, one hand gingerly touching the bandages on his shoulder. At least the wound wasn't bleeding anymore, but it pulled painfully with the slightest movement. A little light trickled in from downstairs, effectively blinding him, so he sighed and lowered his head, quietly listening for the sounds of his family and friends moving around. Instead he heard light breathing very close by and realized he wasn't alone. He didn't have one of his masks on so he couldn't see, but he recognized the sound and rhythm of his sibling's heartbeat.

"Raph, is that you?" he whispered.

"Yeah." From his seat on the floor against the far wall, Raphael yawned. "Everyone's asleep but us and Don. It's pretty late. Or early, I guess."

"Why's he awake?" Then he heard the clanging and harsh whine of a blowtorch along with loud splashes of water. "He's not done yet?"

"Two more sections to go. We were lucky, we found some spare gridiron in his workshop so we didn't have to go out. I'm pretty sure it'll hold if something tries to break in." Raphael saw his brother's look and smirked. "Quit worrying. If Mike could hold one back, then I'm sure welded iron can, too."

Leonardo didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue.

"Don and me was talking while you were asleep," Raph said. "He found something weird in your DNA."

Smothering a groan, Leonardo turned his head away even though he couldn't see his brother. "Now what?"

"He compared yours with Mike's and mine, and...well, seems your body changed a hell of a lot faster than ours did."

"I fell in the pool of bodies in the staircase, remember?"

"Yeah, see, that's what I told him so he wouldn't get too suspicious. But let's be honest here." Raphael narrowed his eyes and stared hard at his sibling, certain that even blind, Leonardo could still feel his glare. "You weren't in there for long. Not long enough to affect you nearly as bad as what you've gone through."

Leonardo gave a bitter laugh, but he felt his breathing start to race. Raphael suspected something, he was sure of it. "What, you're a scientist, too?"

"Don't have to be. Donatello knows science. I know my brothers, especially since I had to take over for you for a year or so." He spotted one of Leonardo's numerous art books on the floor and picked it up, flipping through the pages. It gave him something to do with his hands and helped calm him down. He didn't want his brother knowing how nervous he was. Leo already had too many advantages. Maybe with the pages flipping, he wouldn't hear his heart pounding.

"And since I know you," Raph said, not looking up from the book, "I figure you're still hiding something."

Silence. Neither of them spoke. The only sound came from the pages as they slowly turned, one by one. Even downstairs, Donatello was quiet. A minute passed. Then two.

"I've never lied to you," Leo whispered.

"True. But..." An old painting of a battle caught his attention and he looked at the knights on horseback for a moment. "I remember something out of one of your books. 'Kill with a borrowed sword', I think. You really take those teachings a lot farther than the rest of us."

Leonardo didn't answer, so Raphael kept going.

"I mean, when I read it, I first thought it meant quickly grabbing your enemy's sword. Later I thought it might be more, y'know, subtle? Framing someone else for something you did. It wasn't for a long time that I figured out that it was a lot more abstract than that. It's just a metaphor. I mean, yeah, use someone else to do your dirty work, that's obvious. But...it wasn't 'till later, when we were farm, that I saw how you were using it."

"And how was I using it?" Leo asked softly, head down, already knowing the answer.

"You don't lie. But sometimes you keep so quiet that it's like the silence is lying for you."

A twisted sense of pride welled up in Leonardo's heart. He recognized the feeling from many months ago, when he was losing himself and his family turned against him, trying to stop him from seeking Stockman a second time. He'd felt betrayed by their willingness to fight him, but at the same time he felt proud that they could face him, finally standing on their own without him to lead them. And now Raphael had learned how to bend these lessons against him.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"You don't have a choice." Raphael looked over his shoulder at the door, partly to make sure no one was listening but mostly because he was tired of Leo's dark room. "Unless you want me to get Splinter and--"

"Don't you dare!" Leonardo growled.

The outburst startled Raphael and he reflexively put a hand on a sai. Even more surprising, Leonardo didn't seem unnerved by his sudden flash of anger and just looked away again. Okay, Raphael thought, so he still has some Splinter issues. File that little bit of information away for later. He decided to try a different line of reason.

"Leo, have I told anyone about what happened in Stockman's dimension, when we were all alone and about to come home?"

Reluctant to answer, Leonardo finally gave a quick shake of his head.

"You know I can keep a secret. I won't tell anyone, but I have to know what you're hiding."

"Why?" Leo winced at how pathetic he thought he sounded. "I'm getting better. What does it matter?"

Raphael's voice turned flat. "You know why."

Thoughts ran wild in Leo's head. Because I'm still changing. Because he knows I'm not fighting anymore. Because I've hidden it all and the last time I hid anything, I nearly killed myself and my entire family. Because-- Leonardo forced himself to stop thinking. If he was going to do this, he couldn't let himself think about it.

"Leo--"

"You have to understand we didn't have a choice," he said in a rush. He knew if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again. "We could barely stop long enough to sleep, we were all exhausted and then we lost Chanta and it was just Felix and me, and we started getting so caught up in killing that we didn't care anymore--"

Surprised, Raphael sat still and kept his mouth shut, afraid that if he said anything Leo might stop. Or worse, break down. His voice grew tighter with every word.

"--and after a week or two weeks or I don't know how long, we couldn't tell, everything around us was just blood or something to be killed or destroyed and Stockman didn't leave anything in those tiny supply rooms, not nearly enough to keep us alive. We just stopped caring about anything but getting out and if it was the only way...we didn't even stop to think about it 'cause if we did...if we did..."

As his voice trailed off, Raphael worried that he'd never get him started again. "What? What is it?"

"Raphael...there was never enough to eat."

Several seconds went by before he understood exactly what Leonardo was telling him. The book slipped from his hands as he tried to say something but couldn't. He'd known there was a monster in his brother's genetics, but he'd never suspected... All this time, he'd believed that his brother's fixation on blood and death was due purely to the monster's lust for violence. Now...

"When I fought Saki, I felt it again," Leo whispered. "I don't mean that it ever went away. Before, it was always there, but there was always that feeling of disgust. No matter what I was eating, it felt like I was still in the game, still..."

A wave of nausea passed over Raphael as he remembered his short exposure to feeders and screamers tearing each other apart as they ate, but he forced the sick feeling down. "Is that why you're stuck on apples and soup?" he asked. "They're not meat?"

"That has nothing to do with it," Leo said softly. " Everything's... Anything hard, that's bone. Anything soft, that's muscle. Anything liquid, blood. That's why I can't eat. Everything feels like...I can't even think about it without feeling sick."

Now Raphael wished he hadn't asked, and he only felt worse because he had to keep asking questions. "Then how do you eat at all?"

"It's...it's been going away, a little. Like how I don't zone out in the middle of practice anymore. I don't feel as sick as I did before."

When Leonardo stopped again, Raphael fought down a growl of frustration. Questioning his brother was like pulling teeth, and just as painful. Reminding himself that he simply couldn't shake the answer out of him only made this more aggravating. "But why is going away?"

Leonardo took several seconds to answer, trying in a moment to reason out all his feelings of the last year. "I...do you remember what you said when I woke up after killing him? When you told me I almost died?"

"Died?" A cold feeling sank in Raphael's' stomach as he remembered staying up with Leonardo those few days after the attack on Saki's tower. "Yeah, I remember. I said something about our blood screwing you up."

"'Pulled in two directions'," Leo said. "Your blood pulling one way and...screamer blood...pulling the other. I don't know which one let me eat again."

Neither spoke after that. Raphael drummed his fingers on the floor as he thought. Was his brother really getting better, or was he turning quietly into a monster that no longer minded the thought of eating other monsters? He desperately hoped his brother was improving and just giving into his damn martyr complex as usual. If his body wasn't developing claws or anything, there was a chance Leo was just being hardheaded again.

And if he was right, and his brother was getting better, then telling this secret to the whole family would just make his brother feel worse. Especially now that April was treating him like a person again.

"Well..." Raphael started, considering his options. "I said I can keep a secret, so I won't tell anyone about this as long as you're getting better, okay?"

With a small sigh of relief, Leonardo nodded. "Thanks."

"But," Raphael continued, and now he started to smile. "Since this whole 'not eating thing' is in your head--" he ignored his brother's indignant look "--we're gonna see exactly what you can and can't eat. Got it?"

"Wait...what?"

For the first time in his life, Raphael had to suppress his laughter at his big brother, but it was a near thing. Leonardo looked as nervous as the first time Splinter had caught them going above ground.

"Come on." Raphael stood up and headed to the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at him. "Or would you rather do this when everyone's awake?" As he went downstairs, he didn't have to turn to know his brother was following after him.

I don't care what he says, Raphael thought. Ordering people to do things is a major perk of this job.

"Lucky, looks like Donnie went to bed. Have a seat," he said as he passed the living room.

"Where's April and Casey?" Leo asked. "I thought they'd be sleeping over here."

"Nope, I got 'em settled with a spare mattress in the garage. Y'know, in case they wanted a little privacy. Now don't wander off anywhere, this shouldn't take long. We've got a ton of leftovers in the fridge right now. Just gotta nuke 'em all."

"We have a microwave?" Leo asked.

Raphael glanced back at him. "...yeah. For awhile now. When was the last time you were in the kitchen?"

"Um..."

"Never mind. We've had it for a couple months. Didn't you ever ask Splinter what he was doing with what you're earning?"

"'Earning'?" Leo tilted his head, and then his eyes widened in recognition. "You mean the paintings?"

"Duh. April never told you what they cost? Dude, each one runs like--"< /p>

"No, don't tell me!" Leonardo held his hand up to stop him.

"Why not?"

"If I know what they cost, I'll never be able to do a single mural again."

Raphael just looked at him as if he was insane. "Dude...you are weird." He turned to head into the kitchen, but he turned back for a second. "Don't take off, you hear me? You're gonna find out what you can eat whether you like it or not."

Biting back a sigh, Leo nodded and watched him disappear into the kitchen. After a few minutes of listening to the cabinet doors opening and the microwave humming, he left the living room and walked over by the bridge. Donatello's tools lay scattered about, meaning he probably wasn't done welding the gridiron down, but the entire stream was covered as far as Leo could see. He watched the water flow beneath him, clearer than usual, and with a glance around the lair to make sure no one was watching, he knelt and touched the steel coverings. He gave them a light tug and felt a little relieved when they didn't move.

"Damn, you're paranoid," Raphael said, coming back in with two trays filled with small bowls. "Try to relax, will ya? We're safe down here. And besides, it ain't like you're going topside for awhile."

When Leonardo saw what his brother had prepared, he stood in mute surprise. Rather than large portions, Raphael had made a little of everything and spread it out in separate like a sampler. He'd even gone so far as to set out different drinks.

"What?" Raphael asked, smiling at Leo's face. "Did you think I was gonna force feed ya?"

"Something like that," he admitted, sitting down and facing the food as if he were facing his worst enemy. "Raph...what if I...?"

"Can't keep anything down?" Raph asked softly, as if he'd anticipated the question. "Leo, do you remember way back when we were six, and me and Mike and Donnie got the flu real bad?"

Leo smiled to think about it, but at the time it was anything but laughable. "That was a rough month. You all got it a few days from each other and Splinter couldn't watch all of you so I had to help."

"Yeah, and I went and upchucked dinner that one time, and most of it missed the trash can." Raphael didn't mention where most of it had ended up. Leo's face told him he remembered. "I felt so damn embarrassed, I wished the flu would just kill me off. And you said it wasn't anything, it wasn't my fault and you were just taking care of me. So now I'm returning the favor."

Silence. Leo didn't trust himself to answer. He dutifully closed his eyes and steeled himself, and with a deep, shaky breath, he started.

Two messes, one coughing fit and thirty bowls later, he broke his self-imposed diet and discovered his genetics didn't have such a firm hold over him after all.


	5. Chapter 5

When Michelangelo woke up the next morning earlier than normal because of bad dreams, he walked downstairs thinking solely of breakfast. When he reached the living room, though, he froze and stared at his older brother sitting on the couch watching the news while eating eggs, bacon and toast. Michelangelo watched silently as his brother finished and set the plate down, acting as if nothing unusual had happened. Quietly walking closer, Mike heard Raphael moving around in the kitchen and spotted him through the doorway as he dried several small bowls and put them away in the cabinet.

The lair was calm and everything seemed normal, or at least normal three years ago. The breaking point came as Leonardo finished the last of the orange juice and set it aside without his usual flinch.

"You're okay again!" Mike shouted and launched at his sibling, too overjoyed to notice the startled look on Leo's face or hear the last bowl shatter on the floor as Raphael jumped. He locked his arms around his brother and refused to let go, hoping this wasn't a dream and that he wasn't going to wake up.

Completely taken off guard, Leonardo froze for a few seconds, one hand halfway to the swords on his back, before he slowly relaxed and put an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Not really...but I'm getting there."

Mike tightened his hug briefly and then let go, heading straight for the kitchen. "Raph, I know you would've made enough for everyone if you made enough for big brother, right?"

"No one can make enough for you, you bottomless pit."

"You could try!"

Leo smiled just listening to them. No matter what, some things wouldn't change. But then... He glanced at his hands, trying to remember the claws from months ago. The memory of the tower burning only existed for him as a hazy blur of fire and snow, animal instincts and sanity. Sometimes he wondered if fighting with claws mirrored the way he fought with his swords. If his swords were simply substitutes--

"--news alert, our helicopter has live coverage of one of the creatures that killed so many New Yorkers last night. If we can go to them right now...can we get the picture?"

The image suddenly shifted from the news anchor to a blurry shot of a sunny sidewalk that he didn't recognize. As the camera swung in and out of focus, he leaned back slowly, his body tensing as the creature moved. Always in the dark game or the cover of night, he'd never seen a feeder clearly before. Grey veins ran prominently under a corpse-like white skin covered in a clear, shiny slime. Its three fingered hands ended in ragged claws that hooked at the end, much like the teeth in its wide jaws. Smooth skin covered the space where its eyes should have been. He knew the sound of feeders running through halls, and he'd always thought they ran normally, but the creature before him wobbled on stumps, as if its creator hadn't finished making its body. The feeder turned sharply at the noise of the police closing in on it, jerking its head from side to side like a broken doll.

"Leo?" Mike said, looking back in from the kitchen. He walked in when he saw his older brother sitting bolt straight, hands clenched tight on the edge of the couch, every muscle tense. When he didn't get a response, he sat down next to him and followed his look to the screen. "Holy..."

"--into that?" Leonardo whispered. "I'm turning into that?"

"No," Michelangelo said, turning towards him. "Leo, no."

"But you saw it--"

"Don stopped it," Mike insisted. "Leo, look at me--"

High-pitched electric static blasted into Leonardo's head, drowning Michelangelo's voice in a constant roar that grew louder with each second. Leo cried out in surprise and put his hands against his ears, but it didn't stop the sound. After a moment, the static changed pitch, first going lower, then going higher as if someone was tuning a dial.

Thinking this might be a twist on his brother's occasional episodes of zoning out, Michelangelo tried calling him name. Only when he felt a hand on his shoulder did he stop and look up.

"He can't hear you," Raphael said, staring not at him but at the television screens. "Look."

Mike frowned and tilted his head. The creature on the news had also put its good hand against its head and crouched down, clawing at the air as if trying to stop something invisible. "What's going on?"

"Something only they can hear." Raphael moved around them and knelt down in front of his older brother, catching his eye and then using the sign language they always resorted to when they had to stay quiet. "Leo," he said along with his hands, "what is it?"

"...static," Leonardo breathed. "It hurts."

"Like when you were fighting that demon?" Raph asked.

Leonardo nodded once, then closed his eyes and lowered his head as the sound turned painful. He felt Michelangelo's arms around him and he leaned into his brother's hold, trying to focus and meditate the sound out of his head. It only seemed to make it stronger.

"How do we stop it?" Mike asked with wide eyes. "We're already underground. How's it even getting down here?"

"I don't know," Raphael said. "I'd better wake up Splinter, he might be able to get Leo into a trance or something. And Don, too, he might--"

His voice trailed off as they both heard the sound of the stream growing louder and louder. With a sinking feeling, Raphael stood straight and looked at the gridiron spread over the stream. Swirling violently as if something lurked beneath it, the stream started to splash over the edges of the floor. His hand went to his side and his body went cold when he remembered he wasn't carrying his sais.

"Oh shit," Raphael whispered. "Mike, get upstairs and wake up Don."

"But what about--"

"Just do it!"

Water surged up into the air as something rushed the bars, slamming hard against them once. It happened again, and the iron groaned with the weight. Glancing at his brother who hadn't moved, Raphael wondered if Leonardo had heard it at all. As Michelangelo ran upstairs, Raphael briefly considered getting everyone else, but he realized that he wasn't going to have time. All he could do was run towards the center of the lair, hoping that when their intruder finally broke through, he could attract its full attention for as long as he needed.

He almost reached the bridge in time.

Smashing through steel, two white arms deformed by grotesquely huge muscles reached out of the water and sank their claws into the concrete, dragging a mass of muscle that looked like a warped version of the demon in the stairwell back in the game. With an eel's face, it opened its mouth and screamed, sending shockwaves through Raphael's chest and giving him a good view of hundreds of needle-like teeth. When it saw the turtle in front of it, barely a fifth of its own size, it didn't lunge but rather dragged itself closer.

Running to his right, away from his brothers, Raphael gave a sigh of relief when he saw the creature had no legs, just a thick tapered tail. He even started to smile when he felt a fuzzy hand on his arm, his master's reassurance that he wasn't alone.

"Arm yourself, Raphael," Splinter said, stepping in front of him with a sword held high. "I will hold its attention until you return."

"Gotcha!" Raphael turned and ran for the practice room. His best sais were in his own room, but there was no time for that. Having to settle for a good pair of practice sais, he ran back and spotted April who appeared at the garage entrance in a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop. She followed his look towards the living room, where Leonardo had fallen to his knees trying to block out the pain. She nodded back at Raphael and looked over her shoulder.

"Casey, go get Leo out of here!"

"Aw, but April--"

"Don't argue with me, dammit!"

Despite the static screaming in his head, Leonardo felt the reverberations of something heavy moving through the lair. Staggering to his feet, his eyes widened as he saw the thing slashing at his father and Raphael, who easily managed to stay out of its reach. Burdened by a body unsuited for land, it could only drag itself a few feet and swipe with one arm while holding itself up with its other. They might take a few minutes to kill it, but he didn't think it would win.

When he looked at the stream and the metal twisted up and away from the water, however, he realized that he wouldn't be able to sit this one out. Another arm, smaller and thinner this time, appeared at the surface, bringing forth a normal sized demon. As it came up onto the floor, shaking its head violently, Leonardo wondered if that was what all the demons in the game looked like. As white as the feeder, with black rimmed eyes, black gums around its teeth, with black blood running through its veins, it looked nothing like he'd imagined.

But it was as fast as he remembered. Shrugging off Casey's hand, he leaped down to the practice area and landed on all fours, sizing up the demon as it did the same. In the moment before it opened its jaws and moved towards him, the static changed its pitch. The pain receded a little and he felt himself almost eager for the fight.

On the other side of the room, Donatello and Michelangelo had finally arrived, helping distract the bigger monster while Raphael and Splinter slowly cut it apart. Each cut looked superficial, hardly annoying the demon as it pulled itself after the two turtles in front of it. Taking a moment to breathe, Raphael looked back to make sure Casey had taken Leonardo away. Instead his hands tightened on his sais as he watched his brother fight another, smaller, demon. He turned to go help him and missed the larger demon's tail as it snapped around, striking him in the back and sending him sprawling onto the floor. With a growled curse, he rolled over and snapped to his feet. Their own oversized monster was slow but demanded all of their attention.

Fighting solely through his crippled sight, Leonardo figured that the demons were suffering from the same static in their heads. Every time the sound changed in pitch or intensity, he flinched while the demon shook its head, trying to clear it. He felt awkward, used to fighting more by sound than sight, and he escaped injury less because of his agile dodging and more because of the demon's own erratic swipes. As he backed away from it, luring it farther from the other fight, he spotted Casey in his peripheral vision leaping at the thing with a hockey stick raised high, ignoring April's warning. For a moment he thought the demon would turn and sink its teeth into Casey's unprotected torso, but it never heard Casey's wild yell and only turned after he'd slammed into its side. Stumbling to one side, it whipped its head around and bit into Casey's shoulder. It tried to fling him away but didn't have the strength, so it let go and reared back for another strike.

Leonardo's sword sank deep into its snout as he dove forward, copying Casey's move, but without any of the human's power, he could only cut part of its mouth away. His strike gave April time to drag Casey out of the way of their fight, but in pain-filled fury, the demon lashed out almost blindly, catching the side of his head. The claws raked near his eyes, shredding the mask that protected him from the light.

Shutting his eyes to the white glare, he couldn't help lowering his swords in shock. Blind and deaf, he stumbled backwards, feeling the demon's approach by the shift in the air and through the reverberations in the floor. He knew April might try to distract it, but he also knew she couldn't fight one of these on her own.

"It's just a blindfold," he whispered to himself. "I can do this. I did it once before."

Raising his swords again and settling into a basic stance, he took a deep breath and waited. The darkness lifted and he felt the demon right in front of him, one arm drawn back and coming towards him. He ducked and sliced upwards, shearing off part of its claws. It snapped at him and he leaned back, twisting sideways and flipping back on one arm, standing up again a few feet away.

As they came together again, the static pitch changed again. For a moment it hovered around a single frequency, making them both cringe, and then it snapped into place, as if it had found the perfect pitch and resonated clearly. Leonardo attacked at the same time the demon did, but without part of its claws and jaws, it only bled on him while he hacked off one of its arms. He turned as fell on its side, catching a deep slice across his calf as it hit the ground, and he cut off its flailing hand before stepping in close and beheading it. Blood spurted everywhere but it gave him only a momentary satisfaction. The electric hum in his head grew louder and he wanted more.

Behind him, he felt the powerful presence of something huge finally fading away, and with it he felt a deep sense of loss. A second later when he felt something smaller come toward him, there was no hesitation.

Even after the giant demon fell and stopped moving, Raphael held one hand up, warning his family from getting too close to their oldest brother. The tilt of his head, the way he held his swords out and down, the ease with which he wore his enemy's blood, all reminded him of a year ago. With a deep breath and a good grip on his sais, he quietly approached his brother.

The attack came so fast he blocked it purely on reflex. One moment Leonardo stood absolutely still, the next moment Raphael held one of his swords above his head, trapped in the prongs of his sai. He tried to twist his sai and yank it away, but the next slash came to his face and he had to block that one, and before he could try to twist the swords from his brother's hands, Leonardo had already drawn them back, coming at him again. Raphael couldn't catch his swords again, too busy deflecting the hits at his head, his side, his legs. Leonardo became a blur, suddenly as fast as he'd been when they'd fought each other so long ago, but Raphael knew that this time there would be no mercy, no second chance if he didn't block each strike. He had no time to look around and see what his family was doing. He just hoped they didn't try to get between them.

Slowly driven backwards, Raphael nearly lost his footing on the blood pooling inside the lair's lower level. Leonardo had no such trouble, at home within the carnage, and dropped down on all fours, taking a quick breath before leaping over Raphael's head and landing behind him, falling to his knees even as Raphael turned. Raphael brought the hilt of his sai back where Leonardo's head should have been and his eyes opened wide as he saw his brother's sword drawn back, ready to take his legs off.

Time slowed. Vaguely aware of his family shouting and Donatello drawing back his staff to fling it, he knew they wouldn't reach him in time. Off balance, he jumped and drew his legs up, avoiding the strike but now completely off center. He landed flat on his back in front of his brother, arms out as his sais jolted out of his hands, and he looked up in time to see Leonardo tilt his head a little bit more, out of the way of Donatello's staff. His tip of his sword flashed at Raphael's throat as he dropped his other sword and put both hands on the hilt, bringing all of his strength to bear.

Raphael watched his brother, but as the edge hovered over him for longer and longer, he realized that not only had his brother not struck, he was trembling. Afraid to break eye contact with him, Raphael very slowly brought his hand up and touched the flat of the sword. When Leonardo didn't move, he gently pushed the tip away from his throat until it pointed harmlessly over the floor.

"Leo," he whispered. "Let go."

The sword crashed down next to his head. He winced and slid out from under his brother, sitting up and watching him as Leonardo gasped for breath, still holding the sword. Not knowing what else to do, Raphael grabbed his sibling and held him close, trapping him just in case he tried to move again. He looked up at Donatello and mouthed the word sedative, and watched him run for his lab.

"Make it stop," Leo whispered, wound so tight that Raphael thought he might tear a muscle. "Raph...make it stop..."

"Make what stop?" Raphael asked. "Leo?"

"The sound...it hurts."

Raphael looked around, feeling useless that he couldn't stop the pain. Then he noticed the televisions still on. "Mike," he called out, "turn those off."

With a quick nod, Michelangelo didn't even bother looking for the remote. He just pulled the main plug.

As the screens went black, Leonardo immediately relaxed. The sword fell from his hands and clattered on the floor, and he would have followed if Raphael hadn't pulled him close. Leonardo put his hand on Raphael's arm and turned his head towards his chest, hiding from the light.

"You okay?" Raphael whispered.

"I can still hear it," Leo said. "It's far away now. Oh God, Raphael..."

"It's not your fault," Raphael started. He paused when Donatello came back with needle in hand and watched as he gave his brother a full dose. "Just go to sleep. We'll figure it out. When you wake up--"

"Don't let me," Leo said. "Please, don't let me wake up..." His voice trailed off as he went limp in his brother's arms.

Raphael sighed and looked around. Blood completely covered the floor and ran into the stream, and more splattered the walls and his siblings. Casey groaned somewhere behind him and the huge creature they'd killed had fallen in front of the main door. It would be a long time before they cut their way through it again and until they did, the only way in or out was through the wrecked iron over the water. He tightened his hold on Leonardo and sighed again, tired of fighting so often and absolutely sick of fighting his brother.

"Rest up," he murmured. "When you wake up again, we're gonna go find the bastards who did this."


	6. Chapter 6

For the first time since the game, Leonardo woke up and wished he were still locked in his nightmares. At least in his sleep he felt like he had some semblance of control. Now it seemed that every time he woke up, his life broke down. He sat straight and looked around, a little surprised to find himself in his own bed and not the cramped infirmary that Donatello had created. His room was dark and the lair quiet, save for the soft sound of one, no, two people typing downstairs.

A heartbeat and soft breathing close by startled him. He reached for a sword, grabbing empty air for several seconds before he realized that he wasn't wearing them. Cold tremors ran through him, and he twisted the blanket in his hands. "Where are they?" he demanded.

"Oh, you're awake," Michelangelo said, looking up from his seat on the other side of the room. "Did you just wake up? I should probably go let 'em know--"

"Where are they?" Leonardo asked again.

"Well, Raph and Splinter are trying to clear a way to the front door, and Casey's asleep on the couch, and Don and April are--"

"My swords," Leo clarified, forcing himself not to shout.

"Oh. They're downstairs. Raph said he was gonna clean 'em. He's probably finished, come to think of it."

Cleaned, not stolen away. Leonardo breathed a sigh of relief. He trusted Raphael to bring them back, no matter what. Perhaps that didn't make sense, considering he was turning back into a homicidal maniac, but they both knew he needed those swords as much as he needed air. All the progress he'd made in the past several months didn't erase his need for his claws.

"Is he...is he all right?" he asked.

"Raph? Yeah, he's fine. You didn't even scratch him." In the dark without Michelangelo's smile to reinforce it, the lighthearted tone of his voice sounded forced. "I think you scratched your sword, though. You really slammed it into the floor."

He didn't answer.

Michelangelo fidgeted for a moment, then tried another tack. "You hungry? You've been asleep for awhile now."

"...no." One fight and everything unraveled. He winced and pushed his fist against his mouth. He'd come so far last night, but after becoming a mindless killer again, practically no better than the demon he'd killed, just the thought of eating made his stomach turn.

Why had they even let him wake up? Couldn't Donatello make sure he stayed asleep? At this point, Raphael's sai through his chest would be welcome. He turned slightly and put his hand under his pillow, feeling around for the bottle of sleeping pills. Maybe it was a coward's way out, but if it would keep his family safe from their big brother--

"It's not under there anymore," Michelangelo said softly. He tapped the bottle at his side so that the pills rattled, letting Leonardo know exactly what he meant. "Don said you shouldn't have any so soon after being sedated." He picked up the bottle and looked at it, reading the words on the label. "And Raph says you shouldn't have any at all."

Trapped, he felt trapped. He was in a tiny room with demons pushing their way in. Even the faint light coming in from the door was pushing in on him. Rather than scream, he laughed lowly. "Sometimes Raph's not a complete idiot."

"Not often, but it happens," Mike agreed, setting the bottle down.

"What else did he tell you?" Leonardo asked.

"He wouldn't say. It's obvious he's hiding something pretty important about you, but he said he promised he wouldn't tell." Michelangelo sighed. "Which of course means there's something."

Again, no answer. Leo looked away and wondered if this was how Raphael felt when he asked him to explain why he ran off nearly every night.

"Y'know," Mike said, "sometimes it helps to talk about it."

A harsh, bitter laugh erupted out of him, and he gave into it for a few seconds. Life had a cruel sense of humor, he though, but he was beginning to find it amusing. "You know, Raphael told me the same thing once."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He lay down again and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. "It was a lie then, too."

Soon after, he heard his brother get up and leave. He felt a little guilty about brushing his little brother off so coldly, but it was better than having to talk. For a long time he didn't move, just pretended to sleep whenever anyone passed by his room, which wasn't often.

When he was sure that no one was listening, he turned over and looked up at the broad pipe over the lair. Polished to a mirror's surface ages ago, the bright steel gave him an eagle eye over the lair and everyone inside. At the doorway, Raphael slogged through blood and entrails as he cut the demon apart, the arms already dismembered and stacked against the wall as Raphael cut into its abdomen. Leonardo could tell he still had a long way to go and he briefly considered going down to help, but decided against it. No one could trust him around blood, including himself.

On the other side of the lair, Splinter emerged from the infirmary. From the reassuring nod he gave to April, Leonardo assumed that Casey, though injured, was doing fine. No thanks to himself, of course. Replaying the fight in his mind showed him the mistakes he made, how he froze for a moment when Casey leaped, how he should have reacted faster. It seemed that every choice he made was the wrong one, at every turn he failed his family even more.

Hours or minutes, he wasn't sure how long he lay awake watching his family move about without him. They weren't completely relaxed, too tense and warily eyeing that stream, but they seemed to smile more readily, laugh easier, and talk amongst themselves with far less anxiety than when he was around. He knew what they'd say if they heard his thoughts, that his loss of control wasn't his fault, that he was still himself.

Lies. Their honorable brother would never have drawn a sword on any of them, and that honorable brother was long since gone. Worse, he knew Baxter Stockman wasn't the one responsible for destroying him. He'd done it to himself the night he broke under the weight of responsibility and ran away like a child. Even worse, his brothers knew how pathetic he was, or else they'd never have taken away his sleeping pills or kept his swords, as it was obvious Raphael was doing now.

Finally the lair was silent. He watched the lights turn off until only the faint glow of the televisions on stand-by lit his way, then stood up. He immediately winced and shifted his weight to his good leg as he re-discovered the gash the demon had left him. Coupled with the slash to his neck and the constant weariness, he briefly thought about looking for his painkillers but figured his brothers would have taken those, too. He didn't know if it was possible to fatally overdose on aspirin, but he hurt enough to consider it.

Raphael had done a good job of cleaning up the blood on the floor and walls, but the two bodies, especially the one blocking the door, would take much longer to get rid of. The smell was strong, but nothing like the stench he knew would come soon as the bodies began to rot.

"Mike said you'd gone back to sleep," Raphael said, coming out from Donatello's lab. A little light streamed into the lair from the side room, just enough for him and not too much for his sibling. "Well, he didn't put it quite so nice."

Surprised by his brother's appearance, Leonardo tensed, then forced himself to relax. He shouldn't have let himself slip off guard. "He wanted to talk. I didn't." He sat down on the bridge and watched the water run beneath him. Unsurprisingly, Raphael sat down next to him.

"I thought you'd gone to bed," Leo said. "All the lights were off."

"Can't sleep, too tired," Raphael said. "Too nervous. Every time I turn my back on this place, I get paranoid and look again."

"It's not paranoia if there really are bad things out there."

Raphael glanced sideways at him. "How long have you lived like that?"

"Like what?"

"Looking over your--no, looking over everyone's shoulder. I mean, I thought you were overreacting about checking how strong Don's seal on that stream was, but then during the attack it really was too weak. And before, when I let Mike and Casey go out and you knew it was too dangerous. How long have you lived like that, always expecting something bad to happen?"

"Ever since I can remember." He half-smiled. "I had to keep you three out of trouble and it didn't take much to set you off. Donatello would get curious about something outside, or you'd get stir-crazy."

"Or Mike'd piss me off."

"That happened every day."

Raphael chuckled and stared at the twisted metal over the water. "And you'd drag us home so we could get yelled at."

"Not all the time," Leo said. "Usually, you just wouldn't stop complaining and then Splinter would hear you come in."

"I complained 'cause you never got chewed out with us. I mean, okay, yeah, you did sometimes, but I remember a lot of times you weren't there while we got the whole responsibility lecture."

Leonardo didn't answer. After awhile, as the silence stretched, Raphael glanced at him and recognized the look on his sibling's face. Pensive and slightly turned aside, it was the way his brother looked whenever he wanted to avoid the subject. Now that he knew that expression, he wondered why he hadn't noticed it years before. "Leo?"

"What?"

Now he was sure his brother was hiding something. "Did you get in trouble 'cause of us?"

A half-shrug. "I was supposed to keep you safe."

"But you did," Raph argued. "There was the time Mike broke his leg and you carried him back. Or the time I nearly got eaten by that alligator. Or when--"

"Didn't matter," Leo said softly. "I was supposed to keep you inside."

"But--"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You never wanna talk about anything," Raphael grumbled. "I never noticed it before, but now that I've been doing your job--"

"Right, 'cause a year of splitting the responsibility makes you an expert," Leonardo snapped.

Raphael nearly snapped back, but he reined his temper in with only a little difficulty. His brother was under horrible pressure, he had to remember that, no matter what pressure he himself was under.

"You won't lie, but you sure as hell don't mind clamming up and hiding shit. And that's if I'm lucky enough to figure out what to ask you. You'll change the subject, distract us, and if we do manage to ask the right question, you'll hide the real answer with something that ain't a lie but sure as hell ain't what we were asking." He sighed angrily and glared at him. "You raise hiding the truth to an art. Why do you even bother not lying?"

"...you're my family. I can't lie to you." Leonardo slumped a little, and when he spoke, his voice sounded even more tired. "But you never stop asking questions. I'm sick of everyone wanting answers out of me."

"We wouldn't have to keep asking if you'd answer the first time."

"And what says I have to answer you all the time?" Leonardo got to his feet and walked a few steps away, standing at the water's edge.

"When you're acting real weird and I have to second guess you just to keep you from killing yourself," Raphael growled, keeping his voice low for fear of waking anyone else. "I was so worried you'd do something stupid when you woke up that I had Mike grab your sleeping pills."

"And my swords," Leonardo whispered.

"Your swords?" Raphael shook his head. "No, they needed to be cleaned or else they'd rust, and you were in no condition to do it."

"You didn't bring them back," Leonardo argued.

"I was a little busy cutting up that monster blocking the doors." He tilted his head and frowned. "I trust you with those. You wouldn't leave a corpse for us to find, you wouldn't do that. I wouldn't try to keep them from you."

For a moment, Leonardo wanted to ask him where that misplaced trust came from. He didn't bother. He resented their trust when they offered it and resented their suspicion when he deserved it. For a long time he stared into the water and watched the faint light sparkle on its surface.

"Why did you come down here?" Raphael asked slowly. "I don't think it was 'cause you're hungry."

"Probably won't eat for a month," Leo agreed.

"And you didn't come down here to talk to anyone."

Leo shook his head.

"I want a straight answer, Leo. No hiding. No changing the subject."

Several seconds passed, and Raphael didn't think he was going to answer. He was surprised when he started talking again.

" I shouldn't have run," Leo said. "It only made things worse."

"We didn't give you much of a choice."

"None of you would listen," Leonardo agreed. "I would've had to have a nervous breakdown to get your attention, and Splinter still would've said I was shirking my responsibilities."

Raphael wondered if that was really true or just his older brother's bitterness coloring his memories. Probably a little of both, he decided. "But you came back."

"I shouldn't have. It was stupid. After getting my courage up to run, I came back the moment I couldn't think straight."

"No," Raphael said slowly. "You came home the moment you started thinking straight. You need us as much as we need you."

No answer. Raphael looked between his sibling and the water he seemed so focused on. The look unnerved him, and he put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Leo...why did you come down here?"

"I'm not sure yet," Leonardo answered. "I haven't decided."

The hand on his shoulder tightened painfully and he winced.

"You don't get to make that choice," Raphael said sharply. "I won't let you kill yourself--"

That brought a laugh out of him. "You think you can stop me if I try?" Leonardo asked. "There's no gate to pull me through this time. And if it comes to a fight, you know I'll win."

"It shouldn't come to that," Raphael said. "I shouldn't have to stop you. You've gotten so much better, you don't have to give in like this!"

"I won't wait until I'm so dangerous that either you kill me or I kill all of you--"

"That won't happen--"

"Just because you don't want a fight doesn't mean it won't happen," Leonardo said. "The only question is how long before I can't stop myself. I'm not worth the risk."

"Geez, we really screwed you up, didn't we?" Raphael didn't let go. He started backing away from the stream and forcing Leo after. "We need to talk, but I'm not doing it here. Don't try fighting. You know you can't shake me off right now."

Leonardo met his eyes, and Raphael almost let go at seeing the sheer confusion in his look.

"Why do you keep trying to save me when you know what I'm turning into?"

The answer was instant. "Because you're my brother."

"In a few days," Leo said, "I might not be." Raphael's hand slipped from his shoulder, but both of them knew he wouldn't try anything now. Raphael would still haul him out of the stream if he did. With a small sigh, Leonardo turned and started walking back to his room. Halfway there, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"It's your choice," he said. "Either I kill myself, or I kill my whole family."

"I'll stop you," Raphael whispered harshly, unable to speak louder for sheer emotion. "I won't let you--"

"Raphael...you didn't stop me this time." He couldn't face his brother as he said it, and he quietly returned to his room. Rather than trying to go back to sleep, which he knew he'd never relax enough to do without pills, he went to the back of his room and sat down in the corner. His leg hurt, his neck hurt, his head was starting to hurt, and there was no way anyone would let him near painkillers. And he knew that, somehow, he would be dead within the week.

He drew his knees to his chest and sat still for a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

A faint ringing in his ears woke him up. Wincing as he sat straight, Leonardo put his hand over the wound in his neck and wondered how he'd fallen asleep. Must've been more tired than I knew, he realized. Downstairs he heard his family moving around, but he didn't feel any urge to join them. He felt too sore and too sick to move. The strong scent of decaying flesh and old blood didn't help his growing nausea.

A knock on the doorway made him look up and he winced in pain. At least with his head down, the light from outside wasn't too powerful. Staring straight out the door only silhouetted his youngest brother in what felt like blazing light. Shutting his eyes tight, he turned his head aside.

"You okay?" Michelangelo asked, coming in and kneeling beside him. "Why aren't you wearing a mask? Nevermind, I'll go get one from Don--"

"No," Leonardo said quickly. "It's all right."

"But Leo..."

"I'm fine." Not to mention he didn't want to draw Donatello's attention. Or let Raphael know he was awake. Or Splinter. "What did you want?"

"Just came to check on you. Don and April say they've got something set up to track whatever that static is you're hearing, but we won't know if it starts up again unless...um, you know."

"Unless I try to kill Raphael again?" He almost smiled. That shouldn't have been funny, but it was. "Go tell them to turn the televisions on."

"But that's what hurt you last time."

"No, they just made it worse. I heard it without them on, too. Besides, we should know what's going on up there."

"You sure?"

He nodded. As Michelangelo stood up, Leonardo reached his hand out and grabbed his brother's wrist. He was too weak too hold on and his brother slipped out of his grip before he realized it, but Michelangelo paused anyway.

"About last night," Leo said softly. "Sorry I took it out on you."

Michelangelo smiled. "No problem. You were having a bad day."

While his brother left, Leonardo sighed. In the short amount of time left to him, he didn't want to die while not on good terms with any of his siblings. He considered talking to Splinter, but he frowned at the thought. His master hadn't listened to him when it mattered. Even his apology before had been something of a lecture. Why bother trying now?

As he thought about his impending death, he also thought about the still-unfinished mural on his wall. On the street, the stars and moon provided the right amount of light for him to paint by, but inside the lair, getting that perfect amount of illumination proved too difficult. He'd never finish the New York shoreline. There were a lot of things he'd never finish.

It was funny. Every time he looked across someone else's sword, he knew death was just a breath away. Fighting was always one long gamble and every turn of the sword was a toss of the dice, skill be damned when the enemies were almost equal. And he'd never questioned that. It was simply the way he lived. But this cold knowledge that he would die soon and most likely by Raphael's or his own hand made him feel ill.

A wrenching feeling twisted his stomach and he realized it wasn't just his impending death, something really was making him feel sick. Now that he noticed it, he recognized the thin, high buzz of familiar static in his head, as if someone had left a radio on a useless channel. Whoever was transmitting turned the frequency higher, then lower.

This time he didn't scream or fall to his knees. He grabbed the edge of his bed and tensed his entire body, fighting the nausea back as he breathed deep. The entire room felt hot. He needed to get out. With one hand on the wall to steady himself, he forced himself out and downstairs, into the living room that suddenly turned quiet.

His eyes firmly shut, he managed to unerringly find and sit in the nearest sofa, leaning forward slightly and listening to the room around him. To his surprise, he didn't hear anything out of the ordinary on the televisions.

"They're transmitting again," he said.

In front of him, he heard April ask Donatello if he was sure, to which Donatello hesitated.

"Leo...if they're transmitting--"

"It's not the same this time," Leonardo said. "It's not...there's no urge to kill behind it. It's different."

"Different how?" Raphael asked, coming away from his ongoing job of taking apart the body blocking the door.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "It's not as strong, it just...it makes me feel sick."

Only one reason for that jumped into Raphael's mind and he immediately accepted it as the right reason. "Hunger. Whoever's doing this, they're transmitting hunger."

"How can you be so sure?" Donatello asked. "Broadcasting emotions as electronic signals sounds highly implausible."

"So does making mutant demons," Raphael said. He glanced at his older brother, who perhaps felt the stare and turned away slightly. There was an easy way to convince Donatello, but that would mean breaking a promise and he couldn't do that. Hell, he'd said too much when he figured it out. "And it's something that ain't as strong as the need to kill everything, that way those things don't keep killing each other. You didn't see them in Stockman's game, Don. They got along just fine until they got hungry."

"But that still doesn't explain how you knew--"

The televisions flickered and a woman appeared on the screen. "--live? Are we live? This is a news alert. We've just received multiple sightings of the strange creatures that have wreaked havoc on New York for the past several days. Reports are coming in from all over the city. In lower Manhattan, national guardsmen have--wait, we can go straight to--? Tom? Can you hear me?"

The image flickered again and changed to a man standing somewhat hunched behind several men in uniform. "I can hear you, Katie, can you hear me?" He had to shout over screams, shooting and snarls just to be heard. "I'm behind the line the national guard has set up and you can hear their gunfire--it's like a nightmare, these things are monsters. You can see them skittering on the walls like insects and--Christ, they're eating the dead ones--everyone on this side of the line is safe for now but so many people are cut off on the wrong side and there's no way to get to them. There's a hospital near here--"

The audio crackled and went silent even though the reporter continued talking, oblivious that the equipment had failed. The camera shook a few times as its operator zoomed in past him and onto the street where the soldiers had set up a crossfire, cutting down swaths of feeders. They fell to the bullets in rows, covered by shattered glass and pavement as the gunfire continued, but several managed to slip through the web and leaped into the air, reminding Raphael of how they jumped onto their prey. Most were picked off in mid-air, but the camera caught the one that landed on the lens, giving everyone a close-up of its fangs before the television went dark. Static filled the screen for a second until the news anchor appeared again, one hand over her mouth.

"We...we'll try to get back to Tom in a minute," she said. "In the meantime...in the meantime..." Something off stage caught her attention and she looked up, then looked over at another camera, facing the audience again. "Oh, a-a mandatory curfew is in effect as of right now. Everyone is urged to get inside and lock their doors and windows. If you can't get home, use the nearest building. Shop owners are expected to take in people and--the mayor is, the mayor is what?" She squinted at the teleprompter as if someone had made a mistake typing. For a moment there was silence. Then her face paled. "He's in Manhattan?"

Leonardo paid the news only half an ear. No doubt Felix was out there somewhere fighting these things, but he couldn't do it alone. It had to be cut off at the source. "Donatello, you guys found it yet?"

"What?" Donatello broke himself away from the news and turned back to his computer, leaning over April's shoulder as she worked. "Hang on. This is weird. The signal's everywhere."

"I thought it just followed the television signal," Raphael said.

"Yeah, it's there. But it's on several radio stations, too. It almost looks like a web riding every other signal, like a bunch of carrier waves."

Leonardo didn't even pretend to understand what his brother was talking about. He didn't even really understand how television and radio signals got from one place to another and how electricity could become music or pictures. He just knew that his brother could not trace the signal as he had before. They would have to find another way.

But the door was blocked. Even if everyone helped Raphael, there was no way to get out of the lair before the entire city was decimated. The only way in or out was the stream, and that was impossible.

He tilted his head. Impossible? Only because he couldn't navigate the maze of passages beneath the water. True, the demons that had come in could probably hold their breaths or even breathe underwater, giving them time to find their way, but he was a ninja. He was supposed to be an expert at tracking anything. And those demons were certainly big enough to leave huge scrapes and rends in the walls and floor. His eyes could probably find signs of their passage in the dark tunnels.

No, not in pitch darkness. He'd need some kind of light source, but a dim one. A flashlight would be enough if he didn't shine it forward. He could just tie it to his belt facing the other way. If they hadn't traveled far or if he found another exit, he could do it. And if not? Then he drowned, and hadn't he thought of doing that last night?

But how to get his hands on a flashlight without drawing attention to himself? He knew Donatello had several in his workroom, but they'd notice if he tried to walk there. The kitchen had one. Maybe if he snagged it--but how to get there?

It stung his pride and his weak stomach, but there was no other way. "Raph?"

"Yeah?" Raphael hadn't moved from watching the news, and he tried to split his attention between his erratic brother and the replays of the camera's last image of the screamer jumping on its lens.

"Can you help me to the kitchen? I think...if it's something simple..."

The uncertain tone helped convince Raphael that Leonardo was sincere, and the thought cheered him up a bit. If his big brother was still willing to try, then there was still hope that he wouldn't hurt himself. He was a little surprised that Leo didn't need help getting there, easily skirting around furniture and their sensei as he came out of the sick room. Maybe Leonardo was just nervous about trying to eat again and wanted someone there?

As soon as Raphael opened the fridge and looked inside, reaching inside to move around tupperware in the back, Leonardo didn't hesitate. He grabbed the flashlight he knew stood on the counter next to the toaster and walked out of the kitchen, heading straight to the bridge. He took several deep breaths as he moved, knowing he wouldn't have time to prepare himself at the water's edge.

"So, you think you can handle the same things as from last night or you wanna stick to--Leo?" Raphael glanced up almost instantly. His body turned cold and he ran from the kitchen, bumping into Michelangelo who'd started to follow Leo to the bridge. "Leo! Don't!"

Everyone turned. Leonardo felt grateful that he couldn't see them as he hopped over the side of the bridge, taking just enough time to lean over and take one last breath. Rather than dive, he pushed himself into the water and let the current propel him forward. Hoping his brother wouldn't follow him in and knowing he would, Leonardo slid the flashlight into his belt but didn't turn it on for several seconds. Besides, he didn't need it yet. The light from the lair was strong enough that he could see everything, the broken pieces of stone lying on the floor, Splinter's cane that Raphael had accidentally dropped down here and then disavowed all knowledge of, and most importantly, the prominent claw marks of demons. Following these wouldn't test his skills. They were practically arrows pointing his way out.

He waited until absolutely necessary before turning on the flashlight. Even with the beam behind him, the light stung his eyes, but every detail of the tunnels was clear to him. Cavernous chambers, long and narrow corridors, rooms with dozens of entrances and exits, all of them had one thing in common, the deep and clear scrapes where a demon had grabbed the stone and pulled itself along.

Whether because of his warped genetics or simply because the distance was not that far, his lungs only burned a little when he found the end of the tunnel, not an opening to the river as he'd suspected but rather a broken street-level grating, much like the one Donatello had put together. As he pulled himself up and out, he wondered if anyone in New York knew what was beneath the city.

The streets were empty and silent. After being underwater and underground for so long, fresh air was a welcome relief. Only after he'd ducked into the long shadows as evening descended did he realize that something was wrong with the air. It tasted wrong. It felt heavy and thick. After thinking about it for awhile, he recognized the stench of decaying bodies and blood in the streets. He hadn't recognized it immediately because he'd only experienced it while half-delirious in Shredder's tower. Otherwise, he was only used to dead demons.

Something else became apparent to him when he heard the first sounds of life, the familiar clatter of claws on pavement and the shrieks of hunger. With a sinking feeling, he discovered he'd made one serious mistake.

His swords were still in the lair.


	8. Chapter 8

Raphael followed his brother for as long as he could, but not only did Leonardo have a headstart on him, he could also see in the nearly black water. When the flashlight Raphael struggled to follow veered wildly and blinked out as if his brother had turned a corner, he couldn't see anything. For a moment a sick jolt of panic went through him as he imagined demons swimming towards him, but then the rope in his hand jerked and he reluctantly turned back.

Nearly out of breath by the time he dragged himself up onto the floor of the lair, he took a few seconds to unwind from his hand the rope Donatello had had the foresight to throw to him. Leonardo's jump couldn't be a suicide attempt, he told himself. If his big brother was trying to kill himself, he never would have taken a flashlight.

"Did you find him?"

"Is he...?"

Raphael couldn't answer yet. He turned and looked between April, Michelangelo and Splinter, spotting Donatello standing a few feet away. "Don, can you track his communicator?"

"What? Oh, yeah, just a sec."

Shivering slightly, Raphael stood up and walked over to him, looking over his shoulder as he worked.

"Found his signal," Donatello said. "And...it's moving. I think he's above ground."

"Thank God," Raphael said under his breath. "Call him."

"You think he'll answer?"

"He damn well better."

The shellcell beeped for a few seconds, and then stopped as if someone had answered. The picture didn't come on, but they heard the high pitched shrieks of screamers in the distance and their brother's labored breath, as if he was running.

"Can this wait?" Leonardo's voice came. "I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"Where the hell are you?" Raphael demanded, snatching the communicator out of Donatello's hands. "What the hell was that stunt you just pulled? Were you trying to kill yourself?"

Far away in a deserted street, Leonardo winced and hoped that the rest of his family thought that was just hyperbole and didn't realize how close that last question cut. He turned a hard right into an alley and leaped up the fire escape, crashing through the nearest window and coming to a halt, waiting amidst broken glass and listening to the sound of monsters running in the street below. As the sounds passed by, he breathed out in relief. He'd lost them for now.

"I'm not sure where I am," he said. "Can't see with the sun up."

"What do you mean, you can't--wait. Wait, don't tell me you ain't wearing a mask?"

"Wouldn't matter if I was. I can't see in the light with them anymore. Doesn't matter. I'm all right blind."

"Leo...why did you jump? You couldn't have known you'd find a way out."

"But I did," Leonardo said, bending the truth a little. "The demons that attacked us had to come from somewhere. I just followed the claw marks up to a broken grate. It isn't too far."

"And that's the only reason?"

"Don said he couldn't find out where the signal's coming from. I can track these things back to their source."

A good enough answer, but not the answer to his question and they both knew it. Raphael almost curled his hands into fists, but stopped himself before he crushed the communicator. "You're doing it again, big brother. You're hiding the truth again."

"I..." Leonardo sighed and tilted his head back, resting against the wall. He knew Raphael had to be with everyone else. They were probably all huddled around the communicator, listening to every word. "Of course it wasn't the only reason. You know that."

"Leo, you can't stay out there. You have to come back." Raphael leaned against the raised floor of the living room.

"Raphael, I can't--"

"No, this isn't a choice. The national guard can't handle this. You think can do it all on your own?" He knew what Leonardo would answer before he finished asking.

"Of course. One person can slip through where an army can't. As long as I stay out of their reach, I'll be fine." As soon as he said it, Leonardo winced. Saying that was a slip, and he knew there was no way Raphael wouldn't notice.

"'Stay out of their reach'?" Raphael asked. He didn't like the sound of that. "Why?"

Leonardo sighed. Acting suicidal was one thing, but admitting he'd made a mistake stung his pride. "You remember where you left my swords?"

"Yeah," Raphael said, not understanding. He glanced at the open door to Donatello's lab where he'd left the swords after cleaning, and his eyes widened. They were still on the table. "You left them here!"

Leonardo considered explaining that he'd been too busy thinking of how to escape, but he didn't think that would mollify his brother. "It won't happen again?" he offered, half-smiling. Strange. It wasn't funny, but he wanted to laugh.

"Leo, come home."

"I can't do that, Raph."

"Either you come home or we're coming up after you."

"No!" Leonardo opened his eyes in surprise and cried out as the light burned them. It would be a few more minutes before night completely covered New York, and the fading light felt like staring into the sun at noon. "Raph, you can't. Those things might be heading into the water, and even if you managed to get out, they're all over the streets."

"We'll avoid that grate you mentioned and just come up from the ocean," Raphael told him. As much as he wanted to throttle him, he didn't want Leonardo to worry too much.

"I don't care where you come up, you can't get through so many--"

"And neither can you!"

Leonardo took a deep breath. "Even if you're right, this is for the best."

He still wouldn't come out and say it, Raphael thought, not when he knew everyone was listening. Squashing any sympathy he felt, he pulled his trump card. "If you don't come home, I can't keep your secrets anymore."

Leonardo froze. The communicator fell from Leonardo's hand and hit the floor, but the sound startled him from his shock and he went to his knees, feeling blindly until his hand brushed it. Hoping it was still on, he brought it back up.

"No, you-you can't, you said you wouldn't--"

"That was before you ran away. Again. You'd think you'd learn that running way only makes things worse. If you don't come back, I have to tell them why you're acting so weird."

"Raphael..."

"It's your choice."

Long seconds passed. Raphael could just barely make out the sound of his brother's breathing, panicked and rushed. He wanted to reach out, hold him, reassure him that it would be all right in the end. He even held out a thin hope that Leonardo would agree and come back. When he heard his brother again, though, he knew he'd failed.

"I'm sorry, Raphael," Leonardo answered, all hesitation gone from his voice. "Don't try to find me."

Static screeched out of the communicator for a second, then cut off. Growling, Raphael handed the shellcell back to Donatello and sank to the floor, leaning back against the wall. He knew what the noise was. He would have destroyed the communicator if he didn't want to be found, too.

"I'd better get the submersible--" Donatello started.

Raphael quieted him with a wave. "He'll be fine for awhile. He's probably gonna sit and wait for the coast to clear, then start hunting. We've got a few minutes."

Splinter sat down in front of him. "What is it that you have kept secret with your brother?"

Raphael sighed and lowered his head. "A lot of things. I didn't tell anyone at first because it only would've made things harder for him. Then later on I kept quiet because he was getting better. And he really was getting better. If it hadn't been for whatever noise he's hearing now..."

"Then this all has to do with his experiences in Stockman's pocket dimension?" Donatello asked, sitting beside them. Michelangelo did the same, and when he motioned at her, April joined them.

"Mostly," Raphael said. He decided he would still keep quiet on how Leonardo and Felix had avoided starvation in the game since that was too sensitive and ultimately didn't matter much. What did matter, though, hurt just to think about. "You already know that when he left for the first time, before he got trapped in Stockman's game, that he was running away. What you don't know is that he wasn't planning on living very long after that. Stockman probably did us a favor by forcing him to stay alive for three months."

"Whoa," Michelangelo said, holding a hand up. "I was in that game, Raph. Stockman didn't put anyone in there to force 'em to live."

"No, but Leo was in there with two other people. He felt obligated to fight beside them. When they finally got out, he didn't come home 'cause he wanted to. He did it by accident. He wasn't thinking about it, he was just hurting and home is where you come when you're hurting."

"You implied that he was going to kill himself before becoming trapped," Splinter said. "But he stayed his hand after escaping."

"Well, he wasn't here too long before he met Felix again and ran off to kill Stockman."

"And then we all got zapped to Stockman's weird dimension," Mike said. "But nothing happened. I mean, a lot of monsters died, but Leo didn't try anything."

Raphael sighed and looked away. "Yeah, he did. He just waited until everyone was safe and back in the real world. You remember it took us a little while to come through the gate?"

"You had to help him through," April said, remembering it clearly. "He was walking pretty slowly."

"That's because I had to fight him to stop him from staying behind." Raphael nodded as their eyes widened in realization. "He didn't wanna come back. Nothing had changed. He was still expected to be the perfect son, fearless leader, taking care of everyone. He thought it'd be better if he went back inside and kept killing things until they finally killed him."

"And...you fought him?" Donatello asked. "And won?"

The disbelieving tone irritated him, but he didn't snap. "Yes, I won. Of course he was pretty tired at the end, but I was stronger and pulled him with me."

"Is that why he ran off after killing the monster that came through?" Michelangelo asked. "After the bazooka went off, remember? Man, that was awesome..."

Raphael looked down. The memory of that night felt as cold as the rain. "I found him too weak to fight, just walking away. He said he had to leave or else he'd lose himself."

"Wait," Donatello said slowly, "was he running away or planning to kill himself?"

"It's the same thing to him. Better a quick death than being crushed under all that weight." Raphael shrugged. "Anyway, I got him home, and he slowly started getting better. He didn't leave the lair for a long time, though. He said he was worried that if he left for any reason, he might not come back."

No one spoke for a few seconds. None of them had known how frayed Leonardo's bond with his family had become.

"He told me once that he used to wonder if he was still in the game. That maybe he'd really fallen back into the well and was just dreaming all this."

"And now?" Splinter asked. "Am I correct in assuming that Leonardo is still suicidal?"

A nod. "I think I stopped him from drowning himself last night." He ignored Splinter's demanding questions and his brothers' furious accusations of hiding something so important and talked over them.

"Enough already! This is exactly why we never told you. Yelling at him to explain or stop being crazy won't do anything except make it worse."

"Letting him hide from everything didn't help, either."

"I didn't let him hide. When things got bad, we talked." He narrowed his eyes at their disbelieving expressions. "Yeah, we could talk without killing each other, okay?"

"If he is suicidal," Splinter said, "how can you say he was improving?"

"Because he wasn't thinking about killing himself until all this crap happened. If this--" he waved his hand at the dead body against the door "--hadn't happened, he'd still be here. He'd be eating normally and bossing us around and practicing. He..."

Raphael sighed and shook his head. "This isn't his fault. He just doesn't know how to handle it." He almost laughed. If this had happened to anyone else, any of his brothers, to himself even, Leonardo probably would've known how to react. But no one had ever taught Leonardo how to take care of himself.

Above the ground, the sun finally set. Most of the street lights were broken and the lights that would have been on in the windows now stayed dark as the humans hid. By starlight, Leonardo opened his eyes and saw the remains of his communicator crushed between his hand and the wall. Tiny bits of plastic, screws and wires slipped to the floor, and in a fit of frustration he flung the useless thing out the window, listening as it hit the far wall and clattered to the pavement far below.

By now they all knew. Raphael would waste no time in making good on his threat. His whole family knew the extent of his failure, choosing death over them so many times. He would have thrown up if there'd been anything in his stomach.

Slowly he stood up and went back to the broken window, looking through the jagged glass at the world of shadows and moonlit silhouettes. A few screamers and feeders lingered by dead bodies on the sidewalks and streets, but they were nothing he couldn't avoid. Something large and heavy passed by overhead, leaping between the two buildings. Leonardo nodded once in recognition. The smaller creatures held the streets and the demons controlled the rooftops.

Raphael's betrayal made no difference. His job was to find out where these creatures came from, destroy their source, and then destroy himself. Knowing he would die soon made the weight of his responsibilities disappear and for he first time since he could remember, he felt like he could stand up straight without the threat of being crushed.

He took a deep breath and smiled, then climbed over the glass and began to search, following the thin line of stragglers through the streets and deeper into Manhattan.


	9. Chapter 9

At first he struggled to find the trail. Long scratches covered every building where screamers skittered over the walls and deep gouges in the rock, left by demon claws, pitted every rooftop in sight. Running from the occasional pack of feeders only made it that much harder to find the path that the monsters had taken into the city.

Screams and gunfire carried on the night air from the other side of the island. He had no way of knowing who was winning. A loud explosion set all of the monsters screaming as their overly sensitive hearing drowned in the noise, and he nearly fell to his knees with them. Taking shelter in shop with smashed windows, he knelt in the corner and waited for the sound to pass. He figured the noise came from the army destroying the bridges to keep the creatures from spreading.

As the last echoes of the blast faded away, he sighed and leaned against the counter. Jewelry sparkled almost invisibly in the darkness, scattered amongst a handful of screamer bodies that had slashed themselves apart after slamming into the glass displays. He wished the jewels were swords instead, but he knew it wouldn't help if they were. He'd never found a sword shop yet that had anything but beautiful, useless ornaments shaped like swords. If only Shredder's elite were nearby, he could have killed one and taken his swords.

"It figures," he whispered to himself. "The first time I want a ninja around, they're all gone."

Finally the night fell silent again. Knowing the other monsters would soon return to the street, he stood up and looked out the window, careful not to lean out too far. Once he was sure he was alone, he jumped out and started running again.

Since too many clues made the trail impossible to find, his only choice was to follow the most indistinguishable, messy path. The more marks he found together where demons and screamers and feeders ran side by side slashing at each other, the closer they'd run before spreading over the streets and buildings. When he found more body parts strewn along the trail, he knew he was close.

To his surprise, the trail led to the docks and ended at a large ocean-faring ship with an iron hull. It had no identifying marks and looked nothing at all like any battle ship he'd ever seen in his history books, although it looked a little like a cruise ship without windows. A damning swath of scratches and gouges in the concrete pointed at its gang planks which were still down and covered with the blood of whoever had been closest when they were lowered.

"A boat?" he wondered. Although the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. When monsters overran the island, the best place to be was off the island. He stared at it and sighed. He couldn't see any way onboard that didn't involve walking straight up into its hold.

"Can't be that bad," he said to convince himself. "I'm sure everything left the ship already."

For a moment he stood still and listened to the wind, straining to catch the slightest noise, the softest tap of feeder footsteps nearby. He only heard the sound of waves pushing against the ship and the wind moaning through the broken windows and open doors of the nearby. With all the monsters spreading farther away, he was perhaps in the safest part of the city.

And his brothers were about to pop up somewhere unsafe. All of the shoreline couldn't be devoid of monsters. Even worse, he knew there had to be at least a handful of the demons that could swim out there, and if they found his siblings before they could get out of the sub--he had to tell them, warn them to come here--

\--but he'd destroyed his only means of communicating with them.

Cursing his stupidity, he turned from the ship toward the nearest warehouse and went inside. An office stood right next to the door so he went in, ignoring the blood splattered all over the walls, and pushed the mangled corpse off of the desk. There was no telephone but he was in luck. A small cellphone tumbled out of the body's breast pocket and hit his foot. Perfect.

First he tried the phone Donatello had rigged for the lair, but after several rings, he figured that they had already left. After tapping on the desk for a few seconds, he wondered if April still had her cellphone. Two wrong numbers later, he finally remembered the right number and heard her exasperated voice.

"Casey," April scolded, "I told you not to call. Go back to bed."

"It's not Casey," Leo sighed. "It's me."

"Oh my God, Leo! Where are you? Are you okay?"

In the background, he heard his brothers voices mingling together as they all tried to get her attention. Then she yelped as someone managed to pluck the phone from her hand.

"Leonardo, where are you?"

He froze, his breath catching so that he couldn't say anything. Splinter's voice didn't sound at all like the last few months, careful not to say anything that might hurt him. Instead he sounded like the night Leonardo had begged to have his responsibilities reduced. Cold. Demanding.

"Answer me."

Leonardo put the phone down and took several deep breaths. The smell of blood and the cold air coming in from the door brought him back. He wasn't in front of Splinter. His father was probably miles away, far out of reach. Swallowing once, he raised the phone again.

"--still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here," he said, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was. "And you're not the one I want to talk to. Give the phone to Raphael."

"No. Your behavior has been irrational and dangerous to the entire family. You will speak to me."

"You..." he whispered, feeling as if he'd been punched. "You..." He shook his head once. He didn't have time to argue. "That wasn't a request. I'm not talking to you and I'll hang up if you don't hand the phone over right now, you--you damn arrogant rat!"

"Whoa, I was right. Someone's still got Splinter issues."

Raphael's voice. A weak laugh slipped out of Leonardo before he could stop it.

"I didn't think he was gonna do it."

Not all that far away, seated next to Donatello in their submersible, Raphael looked out a porthole at the murky water so he didn't have to see Splinter's glare. He was surprised April's phone managed to receive the call, but they were nearly at the surface now.

"I don't suppose you called to say you were heading home?"

"I...I wanted to make sure you didn't come up in the wrong place."

"What? Wait, did you find out where they're coming from?"

"Came from," Leonardo corrected him. "It's a ship. I don't recognize the type, probably a stripped out freighter."

"A ship? You sure they came from there?"

"Of course." The slight to his tracking skills stung his pride. "Right now all the feeders and demons are gone. It's the only safe spot in the city. If you come out anywhere else..." He let the thought hang, unable to finish it.

"Wait, where are you? I can't track you, remember?"

Leonardo blinked. He had no idea. Hoping the blood hadn't destroyed everything on the desk, he leaned over the stack of papers and lifted the top page. "Um...Mediterranean Coastal Freight. I can't tell what the warehouse number is, it got pretty messy in here."

He heard Raphael say something to Donatello. A few seconds later, Raphael came back on.

"No problem, Don found it on the map. He says we're pretty close. Leo...stay put. We'll be there soon."

"I..."

"Please. Leo, don't--"

Closing his eyes, Leonardo snapped the phone shut.

He didn't stand still for long. If he rested too long, they might catch up to him. Pausing just long enough to make sure the coast was still clear, he made his way to the ship and walked up the gangplank, finding himself inside a large cargo hold. A scattered handful of screamer and feeder bodies lay on the floor amidst a couple shallow pools of blood. Considering what had been stored here, the lack of blood dripping from every surface made him wonder just how fine the enemy's control over these things was.

Against the side of the wall he spotted a ladder that led to catwalks over the hold, so he climbed up and found a metal door hanging open a few inches. Wincing as it screeched, he pushed it open.

Back in Donatello's submarine, Raphael sighed and snapped the phone shut, tossing it into April's lap. "Damn it."

"He went inside?" Mike asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course." He raised his hand to hit the dashboard controls but paused in midair, sighing in resignation and letting his arm fall. "We'll be lucky if he doesn't lock the door behind him."

"I could try calling him back," April offered.

"But you don't know the phone number," Don said.

"I've got caller ID," she said, flipping it open. After pressing a few buttons, she smiled. "Here it is. It's a cell, too."

"How can you tell?" Mike asked, leaning over his seat to look. "Aren't the numbers the same to it?"

"No, the cell phones get a different string than land lines." She glanced up at Raphael. "You want me to try?"

He considered it, then shook his head. "No. If he didn't throw it away already, he definitely will if we call him. We'll just have to hope he calls us again."

They surfaced without incident, coming to rest against the edge of one of the piers. Raphael went out first, sais at the ready in case he met a straggling screamer, but all he saw were scattered body parts and streaks of blood. Grimacing, he motioned for everyone else to come out.

"Careful," he warned them. "Don't slip."

After they climbed up onto the pier, he took the chance to look around a little more. He didn't know how Leonardo had managed to track the creatures across the city, but now that he was here, he easily made out the smears of blood that covered most of the dock, narrowing up and into the nearest ship.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go get Leo back." He though he'd said it quietly, but his little brother heard him.

"What if he won't come back?" Mike asked.

Everyone fell silent as Raphael considered it. He knew very well that his big brother wouldn't willingly come home, at least not yet. He'd have to prove to Leo that there was no way he'd hurt his family, and right now he wasn't sure he could do that.

Meanwhile, heading into the depths of the ship, Leonardo decided that he liked this place even less than the game. At least in Stockman's dimension, the halls were wide enough to swing a sword. Not that he had a sword, of course, but the narrow steel corridors felt like they might suddenly collapse in on him. The whole ship felt more like a dungeon, especially when the metal creaked and groaned. The dark red lighting made everything look painted in blood.

And he was lost. The halls were straight enough, but there were so many doors and stairs that he no longer knew where he was. He finally decided to go up whenever he could and hope to find someone to kill.

He stayed alert for any stray sound, any metallic tap that sounded like it shouldn't have been there. He wasn't too worried about encountering any monsters since he knew he would hear them long before they came close enough to attack, but he did worry about meeting whoever was controlling them.

Shredder was dead. Stockman was dead, although the scientist seemed to specialize in coming back from impossible situations. He probably didn't know this new enemy and that worried him, especially now that he was alone. Ninjas and vicious aliens and mutants, those he could handle on his own. If there were too many, he couldn't count on his brothers to help him. If strange scientific gadgets and chemicals were involved, Donatello wouldn't be there. If the attack were mystical, Splinter couldn't help him face it. On his own, he felt their absence keenly. He missed their constant banter and it hurt to know that he wouldn't hear them again.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't hear the shuriken aimed at his back until it was so close that he had to dodge, putting him low to the ground as he turned and looked for his attacker.

A ninja, and not just any ninja but one wearing a foot emblem. Leonardo laughed in relief. He didn't care where this one had come from or if a new branch of the foot clan was taking over in New York again. He was just happy that in a moment he wouldn't have to worry about not having his swords. This ninja had been kind enough to bring him a pair.

Not too far away and only one flight down, Raphael and his family stopped suddenly as familiar laughter echoed through the metal passageways.

"That's Leo," Mike whispered. "He's okay!"

Raphael didn't mention that he didn't think they had the same idea of 'okay', especially considering what he knew would make Leonardo laugh right now. The thought disturbed him. Leonardo had only restrained himself because he was trying to find his way back amongst his family and friends.

Splinter had once worried that Leonardo had tasted the joy of slaughter. Raphael just hoped his brother wouldn't give into that side of himself so much that he would lose himself in it.


	10. Chapter 10

Stepping in close, Leonardo came right up to the ninja's face, too close for him to use his swords effectively. Before the ninja could back up, Leonardo grabbed his head and twisted it to one side as hard as he could. The move took all his strength and he turned his whole body into it, but a wet snap rewarded his effort, along with two metallic clatters as the swords fell from limp hands.

He let the body fall and bent to pick up the swords. Never had the hilts felt so natural in his hands, as if holding a sword completed each arm. The steel glimmered in the red light and sliced through the air perfectly.

Even more satisfying, though, was the knowledge of who he was fighting. So what if the foot clan had control of Stockman's creatures? He'd defeated the foot before and there didn't seem to be any creatures left onboard.

But who was leading them? Shredder brought back from the dead again? He'd killed Shredder twice now, although he had to admit that the thought of facing him again no longer made him anxious. Whether that was because it was hard to worry about killing someone after he'd done it twice already or because he knew he would die tonight, he wasn't sure.

More likely it was someone new that he hadn't seen before, someone risen up from the ranks of the Japanese branch of the clan. He nodded to himself. Good. He could wipe out a little more of the foot clan before he died. Although he couldn't keep his brothers safe anymore, one less rising star in that clan would make their lives easier.

Of course he had to find the rest of the foot clan, and he didn't think he could do that if he kept running around blindly. The ship corridors were narrow with small doors that veered off every few feet. Depending on his hearing would only work for so long. Once the foot found out about their intruder, they would charge his position. They knew the ship far better than he did. It would be only be a matter of time before they lured him into an ambush.

His best hope of finding the leader before they found him was to look without his eyes. Lowering his swords, he breathed out, closed his eyes and concentrated solely on his maai. At first all he felt was cold steel around him like a cage, but as he pressed outward, slipping into a light trance, he felt something at the very edges of his awareness. He frowned. How could it be behind him?

Suddenly the presence noticed him and knocked him out of his trance, but not before he realized exactly who it was. Pausing long enough to steal the dead ninja's sheathes, Leonardo turned just as he heard footsteps coming up the stairway not too far away.

"He has sensed our presence," he heard Splinter saying. "Hurry!"

"Why'd he bother sensing us?" Raphael grumbled. "Anyone could hear Mike's stomach growling a mile away."

"Hey, it's not my fault we missed dinner!"

Knowing he was making far too much noise as he ran, Leonardo tried to block out his family's voices as he ran recklessly through each corridor, turning every corner that he could. Perhaps Splinter was following his spiritual presence because they never missed a single turn.

Fortunately he didn't have to rely solely on his maai. As he leaned into the next turn, he unsheathed his sword, slit another ninja's throat before he could attack, and continued through the room before the ninja completely fell from his hiding place behind the door. Leonardo sighed as he ran. The blood and bodies didn't help hide his trail, but at least his siblings wouldn't be attacked on the way.

He was moving so fast that by the time he went through the next door, he nearly didn't stop in time. He stopped himself at the railing and in the dim red light saw that the corridor opened into a flooded cargo hold with a walkway that wrapped around the room, leading to other doors on either side.

And the walkway was full of ninjas.

The element of surprise gave him just enough time to kill the first two ninjas on his left before he was rushed from both sides. As he ducked under one sword and lunged across the metal floor, slowly moving around the hold, a loud siren filled the whole ship. Probably an intruder alert, he figured.

He'd just worked his way into a corner when he heard Michelangelo yelping in surprise. He couldn't help turning to look, and the move nearly cost him his head as he jerked away from a close swipe of a ninja's sword. As he ducked back, he spotted his siblings coming through the door and met Michelangelo's eyes.

"There he is!" his little brother yelled.

"Dammit," Leo growled.

There were more dead bodies than ninjas between him and his family. They'd catch up to him in just a few seconds, and then what? He didn't even want to think about it. The only way this could get any worse--

He screamed as the static burst back into his brain at such a high pitch that he couldn't stand, falling to his knees in shock. As he clamped his hands over his ears, he looked down at the blood dripping through the walkway's grid floor.

Black water filled the bottom of the hold, and that water was churning.

Hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the edge. At first he wondered why a foot ninja would bother trying to take him alive, but as he was pulled instead into an embrace, he realized one of his brothers must have reached him.

"Have to get out of here," he gasped. "Something's in the water..."

If they heard him or not, he didn't know. He couldn't hear anything as the static shifted higher and higher. When he managed to open his eyes again, he found his siblings around him with his master and April a little farther away. As they pushed back their enemies, they moved farther and farther away until whoever was holding him had to get up and fight the few stragglers caught between them. Leonardo didn't bother to try to run. Every route was blocked by family, and even if he could have run, his head hurt so much that he felt like throwing up. He wondered if they were scolding him as they fought. If so, he was glad he couldn't hear anything.

The ship suddenly lurched to one side and shuddered violently, throwing everyone to the left, then right. Something moved in a blur beside him and he looked up in time to see his little brother falling backwards over the rail.

He moved without thinking. He wasn't fast enough to catch his brother before he went over but he managed to slip under the railing and catch his brother's wrist. Too late, he remembered that he didn't have enough strength to pull him up. He couldn't even stop from being dragged towards the edge. Cold panic made him curl around one of the railing's vertical bars, but not only could he not bring himself back, he couldn't hold onto his brother. Only Michelangelo's own grip kept him from falling. Worse, he spotted a slice on Michelangelo's free arm. His brother wouldn't be able to climb up, either.

The static faded but didn't entirely disappear. One of his brothers called his name but he didn't dare look up. He shut his eyes. For some reason it was harder hanging onto the railing with them open. Without his sight, his hearing overcompensated. Over the static and the clatter of steel, he heard heavy footsteps and high pitched scratching as claws scraped against metal. Something roared not too far away and he heard everyone inside the room suddenly stop fighting.

"They're coming back," Leonardo whispered. "That's what the signal meant. It called them back."

But he knew it didn't just call the monsters outside. He opened his eyes, sure he would see an attack before he heard it, and amidst the churning waves beneath them, he saw the massive shoulders and tail of a white demon swimming in furious circles.

"Leo!" Michelangelo yelled. "Behind you!"

He shut his eyes. He couldn't move to protect himself and he wouldn't drop his brother. With any luck, he could take one, maybe two sword strikes, and even then perhaps his body wouldn't slip free.

Something whistled overhead and a foot ninja dropped beside him, probably from a Hamato clan throwing star. Before he'd wanted to outrun them. Now he wished his siblings would get to his side as fast as they could.

Raphael was right, he thought. Running just makes things harder.

The walkway started to shake. He didn't have to look up to know something big and heavy was coming, somehow maneuvering its body through the narrow corridors. It wouldn't be the biggest demon he'd ever faced, but prone on the floor as he was, it didn't have to be big.

At the same time, the demon beneath them finally got tired of waiting and decided to climb up. Leonardo opened his eyes and saw both his brother looking down and the demon trying to dig its claws into the thick metal walls. It took several tries before it could gain purchase, but it slowly started to pull itself up to the bloody bodies and the dangling turtle overhead.

If his brothers could have reached him, they would have by now. He needed a plan. A quick scan of the hold gave him one.

"Mike," Leonardo called down. "Michelangelo, look at me!"

After a few seconds, Michelangelo managed to look up at his brother. Even in the dim light, the fear in his eyes was all too obvious.

"Listen," Leonardo said. "You've got to brace yourself against the wall and get ready to jump."

"Are you nuts?" Michelangelo yelled. "You may have a death wish but I don't!"

"I won't let you die," Leonardo said. "But I can't get you up here. We've got to go down--"

"But Leo--"

"You have to trust me." He winced as Michelangelo squirmed, nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket.

"How do I know I can?"

"I'm suicidal," Leonardo said softly. "Not dishonorable."

Michelangelo stared at him for a moment, looked down at the demon coming closer, then angled his body enough that he could brace his legs against the wall. Leonardo tried to mask the pain shooting through his arm and waited for the demon to climb higher.

"Get ready to push off," Leonardo said. "And when you, do it as hard as you can."

"Are you sure about this?"

Behind him, something roared. The sound echoed through the chamber and reverberated in his chest. He had to trust his memory of how big a demon had to be to make that sound, as well as his memory of how small the ship's doors were. April screamed as the demon's teeth snapped shut so close that he could feel the wind rush past the back of his neck, but he smiled in satisfaction. He was right. It wasn't through the doorway yet. The demon beneath them crouched, ready to leap.

"Now!" he yelled, letting go of the rail.

Michelangelo pushed against the wall with all his strength, leaping out over the water. Leonardo followed, one hand already raising his sword. He turned in mid-air and barely missed the demon's lunge, slicing deep into its back before he fell out of reach. A second later, he hit the water. The cold shock knocked the breath out of him for a moment.

Hoping that it was an unwritten law that demons only lived one per pool, he swam back up to the surface and found Michelangelo nearby.

"There's a ladder," he said breathlessly, sheathing his sword. "It leads up to another door."

"Way ahead of you," Michelangelo said. He grabbed Leonardo's wrist and swam towards the half-submerged ladder. Bolted to the wall, it looked like a maintenance access route and only one of them could go at a time.

"After you, big bro'," he said.

There was no time to argue. Leonardo climbed up without sparing a glance back to see where the demon was. A moment's hesitation could kill both of them.

Although the ladder went all the way up to the walkway, Leonardo noticed another door positioned halfway there and within reach. With a rough push, it opened easily. He had no idea where it went but it didn't matter. His brothers could easily handle anything on those narrow ship passages and he had a clan leader to kill.

"Oh no you don't," Michelangelo yelled. "Get back here!"

Leonardo was sorely tempted to lose him in the dark corridor, but he couldn't leave his little brother alone. Slowing his pace, he kept just out of arm's reach until they came to another room. He stepped to one side and dodged his brother's arm, then turned and slammed the door. He didn't want to take a chance on screamers following behind them.

Michelangelo grabbed his wrist again with bruising strength. "I can't believe you did that," he said, breathing hard.

"Mike, that kind of hurts--"

"I don't care, I'm not letting go of you again." He ran his free hand over the walls, yanking Leonardo with him until he found a light switch and flipped it on.

Leonardo covered his eyes. "You should go back to Raphael," he said. "I've got to find whoever's trying to control us and kill them."

"'Us'?" Michelangelo repeated. "You're not one of those things--"

"All they have to do is find the right frequency and I am," he argued. "They only called everything back this time. Now that they're here--"

"You don't have to do this alone. Let me help--"

"No, it's too dangerous--"

"I don't care." Michelangelo clenched his hand into a fist out of frustration and took a few breaths to calm himself down. "Look, Raph said something when he was explaining things. I dunno if he even thought about it or if anyone else caught it, but...he said this wasn't your fault. He said you don't know how to handle it."

"What the hell--?"

"Shut up and listen for once! You always take care of us. Do you know how to take care of yourself?"

Leonardo froze.

"You never ask for help. And when we offered help, you never took it. I bet anything if this had happened to one of us, you would've found a way to take care of it, but it happened to you."

"Stop it."

"And you're not used to being the one who needs help--"

"Stop it!" Leonardo found his grip on his sword turning painful. With a shallow breath, he sheathed it again, whispering more to himself than to his sibling. "Damn. Nothing's changed. You're just as self-centered as ever."

"What--?"

"I took care of you three for years, no matter how hard you and Splinter made it for me. You think I didn't have to take care of myself during that time? I would've broken down a hell of a lot earlier--"

"But Leo, it's like you're building walls to keep everyone else out."

"Those walls are what kept me up for so long," Leonardo snapped. "They kept out every insult, every time you three treated me like a task master when I was just doing what Splinter ordered, every time he told me to do something that'd make you sick of me."

Michelangelo looked stricken and his hand slipped from his brother's. "We never--"

"Never ran when I needed help working on something? Never dodged practice? Never tried to get me in trouble with Splinter?"

No answer. Leonardo almost asked if he was all right, but forced himself to stay quiet. This wasn't the place to argue about family.

He turned his back and listened to the room, figuring out where the next door was. Faint shrieks echoed in the corridor they'd come from. Screamers had made their way through the ship, then.

"Sounds like I can't leave you here."

Maybe he would find a place he could drop him off farther in. No doubt his family would be on his heels. With a little luck, he could cross their path, leave his brother in their way, and move on before any of them noticed what he was doing.

"Did he hurt you?"

"What?" He blinked.

"Splinter, did he hurt you?" Michelangelo asked, knowing how hard Splinter's cane could be.

Leonardo shook his head. "He never touched me."

"Then...what'd he say?"

A shrug. "Just reminded me how worthless I am." When he heard his little brother's gasp, he sighed and lowered his head. Hurting his sibling was easy but he hated himself for doing it. "He doesn't talk to you like he does to me."

"What do you mean?"

He didn't have time for this. He had enemies to kill. But he knew his sibling well enough to know that there was no way of getting around it. Mike always had a way of worming things out of his brothers.

"I'll explain on the way," he said, leading him out and back into the ship. At the very least, it would keep him talking until the static hit just the right frequency. "Just promise me one thing."

"Depends on what it is."

"If I suddenly stop talking or moving, don't try to get my attention. Just run."

Michelangelo frowned. "I don't believe you'll hurt me."

"See?" Leonardo said. "Still relying on me to take care of you."


	11. Chapter 11

"You're limping. And you're bleeding again. And I think you tore something in your arm."

Leonardo didn't need to be told, but he wished his little brother hadn't noticed. He thought he'd been hiding it fairly well, but his recent injuries were flaring up again. Already knowing what he'd find, he reached up and touched the spot where the demon had bitten into him days ago on the rooftop. Sure enough, the wound had re-opened, although not enough to worry him yet. The same arm had also been wrenched while holding Michelangelo, and it trembled from the stress.

"I'm just tired," he said. "It won't matter after tonight."

"Yeah, some ice and rest'll fix it up."

Leonardo smiled. "Sure." Why bother arguing? If Michelangelo wanted to delude himself, let him. And it was nice to pretend that he might go home tonight, even though he knew it was a lie.

"So what did you mean Splinter doesn't talk to you like he talks to us? Does he yell?"

Was there any way he could avoid this conversation? He shrugged. "He never raises his voice. He doesn't have to."

He stopped as they came to a point where the corridor branched off in three directions. All three routes seemed identical, so he picked the middle and hoped they would find a staircase soon.

Michelangelo quickly walked by and stood in front of him, refusing to move. "Then what does he do?"

Leonardo looked down. How to explain a lifetime of instruction that was often as subtle as it was overwhelming? It was so hard to describe a tone of voice, a small gesture, the little barbs Splinter used to tell him where he'd gone wrong. He shrugged to himself. The first idea that popped into his head was just as good as any.

"Do you remember the first time you snuck out of the lair?" he said. "You might not. We were really young."

"Yeah, but I remember it," Mike said, smiling at the memory. "You told us Splinter said not to, that we would get hurt. And we didn't listen. There was no way you could've caught all of us."

"But you were right," he continued with a rueful laugh. "I don't remember how I fell. I just remember falling. And Raph started crying and Don tried to reach me, but I was really deep down in that little sinkhole and he was scared he'd slip in and then we'd both be trapped. Then finally you found us and came down after me. Somehow between the three of you, you managed to get me back up."

"When we came home," Leonardo said, "Splinter didn't get angry at you. He scolded you, but he was relieved to see you were all right. He was glad all three of you were all right."

Michelangelo frowned. "Not you?"

"It was my fault you left. It was my fault you were hurt."

"But that's not fair. It was three against one, you couldn't have--"

"Doesn't matter. You were my responsibility. And I failed." Leonardo paused. "Splinter made sure I understood that."

Michelangelo didn't reply, and although revisiting the old memories hurt, Leonardo found himself spilling them out, unable to lock the emotions away again.

"A couple nights later...I don't know, I guess Raphael got tired of being cooped up. He tried to sneak out again. And I didn't let him."

"What do you mean, you didn't let him?"

"I got in front of him. He told me to move, and when I didn't...you know how he gets when he gets frustrated. He lashed out." He sighed and put a hand on the wall to help steady himself. Exhaustion was starting to creep into his muscles. "We've fought so often that the fights are starting to blur together, but I remember that fight. It was the first time we ever fought. I managed to knock him down and I wrenched his arm pretty bad, but I knew I couldn't let him go out."

Michelangelo considered that, then glanced at his brother. "Then Splinter's kind of responsible for the way you and Raph fight."

For a moment he didn't answer. That didn't sound right, but he couldn't find anything wrong with it, either.

"The eldest brother should command respect," Leonardo said, obviously quoting their father. "I have to keep you three safe, even from yourselves."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Growls and screams echoed around them as the ship groaned.

"What about you?" Mike asked. "Do you keep yourself safe?"

Leonardo looked away, knowing his brother wouldn't like the answer. "If I can."

"What? But that's--"

"I know you don't like it," Leonardo snapped. "But that's just the way it is. That's the way it's always been. And it's kept you alive for years, so it's worth it."

The flare of his brother's temper surprised Michelangelo. He couldn't gauge his sibling's moods anymore and wondered what he was doing to make them change so quickly. When Leonardo ducked under his outstretched arm and started walking again, Michelangelo hurried to keep up.

"You mean the way we don't practice as much as you do?" he asked. He put his hand on Leo's shoulder, trying to see his eyes. "Just give me a little time and I will. I swear, I'll get more serious about fighting, you'll see."

Leonardo stopped again, sighing as his shoulders slumped. That was even worse. "No. Don't change."

"What?" Mike frowned in confusion. "I don't get it. Isn't that the problem?"

"I...I thought it was. Kind of." Leonardo fell silent for a moment. How to explain the philosophy of a lifetime in a few sentences? "You don't think like I do. Fighting's just a part of your life. Otherwise you're watching tv or going out or writing."

Michelangelo blinked. "You know I write?"

Leo half-smiled and pressed on. "But I don't go out. I don't do much besides practice."

Still thrown by the realization that his brother knew him better than he'd thought, Mike floundered, trying to keep up. "You read a lot."

"Military history, strategy," Leo said. "Theory to help the practice."

"You've been painting," Mike said. "It's not like you don't have a life, too."

"Just recently," Leo corrected him. "And...painting's more of a substitute."

"Substitute? For what?"

Bloodshed, Leonardo thought. "Painting sometimes feels like swordplay. It takes a lot of focus and concentration, a single-mindedness until it's executed. I paint the same way I--" He broke off, startled by his slip, but too late.

"The same way you kill," Mike finished for him. He leaned against the wall but stayed within arm's reach in case his brother tried to bolt again. "Wow. I should've realized it, but I was too busy being scared."

When Michelangelo didn't elaborate, Leonardo found that he was curious enough to ask. "Realized what?"

"You fight like an artist. All that discipline and focus to get it just right."

He supposed it made sense, but that wasn't something he wanted to talk about. He didn't want to talk about any of it, but Michelangelo could be annoyingly persistent. "I guess. That's why I don't want you to change."

"What?"

"You don't live your life trying to be a perfect killer."

"But you don't have to, either."

"Of course I do. One of us has to. It's either that or force you three to become more like I am. Mike, it isn't that you don't practice, not really. You're good in a fight, you've got the moves, you just don't have the brain."

Mike frowned. He didn't think Leonardo was taking a cheap shot like Raphael did. "I don't think like you."

"And I don't want you to. It's not nice being paranoid."

The ship tilted gently, probably from a heavy wave, and they both waited to regain their balance before talking again. Michelangelo decided he didn't like the quasi-silence. Too many echoes swept around the ship and he couldn't tell where they came from.

"Then what do we do?" Mike asked. "How do we make it so you don't run away again?"

"It's not a problem anymore--"

"Damn it, don't start that again," Mike cut him off, standing straight. "You're coming home and thing's are gonna get better--"

"Stop lying to yourself," Leonardo snapped. "I won't be going home tonight."

"But why are you just giving up?" Michelangelo demanded. "You never give up! Did...did we do something wrong?"

"What? Mike, no--"

"We made you hate us, didn't we?"

"No--"

"I don't want to lose you. Look, just...just tell me what to do. I won't get in trouble so you won't get in trouble, and I won't to stick you with the blame anymore when I prank everyone, and I won't slack off--"

Leonardo grabbed Michelangelo's shoulders. It did nothing to calm his brother but at least it caught his attention. "I'm not doing this because I hate you," he said. "Or even because I want to."

"You don't want to die?" Michelangelo shook his head in confusion, close to tears now. "Then why are you doing it?"

"So I don't hurt you," Leonardo insisted. "You haven't felt it, you don't know how strong it is. Mike, I've lived to keep you three safe all my life. I can't live if I'm the one who might hurt you."

Not bothering to reply, Michelangelo grabbed his wrist again. The meaning was clear. No matter where they went, he wasn't going to let him run away . Leonardo sighed and started walking down the corridor again, his brother right beside him. At least Mike had grabbed his good arm.

If either of them noticed that he was leaning more and more on his little brother, they didn't mention it.

Just a few minutes later, Leonardo sighed and stood straight, relying on his own strength again. If anything, the rest only made him feel even more tired.

"You all right?" Michelangelo asked.

"The sounds are getting easier to handle," he answered.

Which didn't answer his brother's question directly, but it wasn't a lie, either. And it was true that the echoes of screaming and claws on metal had dwindled, just as it was true that he heard his family moving ahead somewhere in the near distance. Perhaps a couple of corridors down at the most, but at least far enough that his brother hadn't heard yet.

The corridor ended in an open hatch with the door's circular lock facing them. Leonardo half-smiled. Maybe it was fate, but this felt too damn easy.

"Mike," he said softly. "I'm sorry I've put you all through this."

Michelangelo smiled. "It's okay. You just haven't been thinking straight, that's all."

"Maybe not," he conceded.

When they came to the door, Leonardo raised his head. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Michelangelo paused and tilted his head, listening to the ship creak and groan. He wondered if his brother was trying to trick him again, but then he heard Raphael's voice as he complained and Splinter's voice trying to explain something.

Breaking into a grin, Michelangelo rushed forward, his hand slipping from Leonardo's as he looked around for his brothers. They sounded so close, maybe even just around the corner.

Only when he heard the steel hatch screeching on its hinges did he realize what had happened. He turned and tried to run back, but he only had a moment to meet his brother's eyes before the door slammed shut. A second later he heard the lock spin shut.

"Dammit!" Michelangelo pounded on the door as if he could break it down. "Leonardo! Please, don't do this!"

On the other side, Leonardo sighed and leaned against the door, feeling his brother's fists through the metal and listening to him yell. After a moment, his family's voices joined him.

"Leo!" Raphael growled. "I know you're still there! You do this and I swear to God, when I get my hands on you, I'm gonna beat you into a pulp for being so damn stupid!"

He listened to them for several seconds, smiling as he heard their voices. With any luck, it was the last time he ever would. At least he'd managed to get Michelangelo back safely to them. Now he could concentrate on finding his enemy. He knew the new head of the clan had to be hiding somewhere on board. It was just a matter of finding them.

Returning back the way he came, he left his family behind and rounded the first corner, heading deeper into the ship.


	12. Chapter 12

When it became obvious that Leonardo was gone, Raphael stopped yelling and leaned on the door, sighing angrily. Beside him, Michelangelo's breathing came in short, fast bursts. Raphael half-smiled. Leonardo would've known how to comfort his sibling. He'd seen him do it before with a simple touch and a reassurance, but Raphael wasn't used to comforting others.

Leo knows how to put us together, he thought. And he knows how to break us apart, too.

"I don't get it," Donatello said. "Why is he doing this?"

"Because he's scared," Mike said. He caught his breath and stood straight, glancing over his shoulder at him. "I don't care what he says, he doesn't know how to take care of himself. And I know why, too."

Even Raphael took a step back when he saw the look in his little brother's eyes as Michelangelo stared at their master. He didn't have to guess what Leonardo had said to make Mike so angry. Now that he expected to die, Leonardo didn't seem to be holding back much of the truth.

"You taught him to be like this," Michelangelo accused Splinter. "You never gave him a chance to be anything else."

Bowing his head in acceptance, Splinter did not try to deny any of it. "I did what I thought necessary to protect you four."

"At the cost of our big brother!"

"Michelangelo," Splinter started. "If your brother had not become what he is, do you honestly believe any of us would still be alive?"

"Of course," Mike snapped. "We're all good fighters."

"There is more to survival than simply fighting well," Splinter said. "Tactics paired with strategy, psychological understanding, and above all, constant anticipation of attack. There is a reason you always left the dueling against Saki to your elder brother."

"'Constant anticipation of attack'," Donatello echoed. "That's just another way to say paranoia."

"And that paranoia is a safeguard," Splinter said. "That is the reason we often staggered our meditations, so that I would be alert whenever he needed to relax his mind and focus inward instead of on outward threats."

"Yeah, that worked so well," Michelangelo grumbled.

"Guys," April finally broke in. "We're in foot clan ship surrounded by monsters. Can we argue about this later?"

"And we will argue about it later," Raphael promised. "But you're right. We gotta find Leo first."

With one final glare at his master, Michelangelo walked past him and stayed next to April as they all headed deeper into the ship. They all expected more ninja to attack, but as time passed and they met no one, they started to wonder if here were any ninja left to face.

"Think big brother might've killed 'em all?" Michelangelo asked.

"Maybe," Raphael answered. "But we would've been finding bodies by now."

"The ship didn't look nearly this big on the outside," April whispered.

"There aren't that many rooms inside," Donatello said. "Whoever built it probably stripped out most of the inner structure and replaced it with all these walkways. Probably to give the monsters a maze to keep them busy in case they got loose."

"Is that why we haven't seen any yet?" Mike asked.

"Don't jinx it," Raphael said.

Suddenly April came to a stop, raising her hands in front of her. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Mike asked, but then he noticed the prickling sensation all over his skin. "Whoa, what the heck is that?"

"Static," Donatello said. "It's strong down here despite all the metal blocking the signal. Someone's broadcasting again."

"Over the city?" Raphael asked. "Or just in here?"

"No way to tell," Donatello said. "But if all the monsters are inside--"

At first the sounds were faint, rhythmic scratches and thumps from somewhere far away, the hungry shrieks of monsters being told that they were hungry. With each passing second, the noises grew louder into a dull roar rushing towards them like a huge wave. Staring behind themselves, they noticed that they had passed several open doorways that all started to shake with the heavy vibrations of something running closer.

"Let's move," Raphael said, leading them away from the door and back down the corridor, taking another route away from the howling and scraping. Flashbacks of the game came to him, hallways covered in screamers so that he had to stand still and fight, and he wished his brother wasn't half-mad and alone in the ship.

"Do you think it's affecting Leonardo, too?" Donatello asked as they ran, yelling over the noise.

"Probably," he admitted. "Until we get it shut off, we have to assume he'll attack us, too."

By now the roaring was so loud it was hard to hear each other. The corridor ended in another door and he grabbed it and swung it open, waiting until they were all inside before slamming it shut and giving the lock a spin. The sound faded but he didn't hear anything coming near the door. The echoes made it impossible to tell where anything was.

"Ah, the turtles," came a familiar voice. "It seems you'll get to see my greatest triumph before I get to watch your greatest defeat."

Raphael turned, ready for a fight. Instead he nearly dropped his sais in shock. The voice belonged to Stockman, true, but Stockman's face appeared on a large computer monitor on the other side of the large room. On the console instead of a keyboard lay a human brain in a protective plastic case with wires coming out at all angles.

"Baxter," April said, blinking several times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "You've lost weight."

Stockman's face scowled at them. "Your sword-wielding friend cost me my body, but no matter. Once again my genius overcomes your pathetic brute force. My brain was safeguarded from his poison by my brilliant robotic engineering and now I'm free to complete my experiments."

"I got a better idea," Michelangelo said. "Let's play soccer. You can be the ball."

"You think I'm defenseless?" Stockman laughed. "I have allies this time, powerful allies!"

"You mean your ugly eating machines?" Raphael asked.

"He means me."

From a darkened doorway next to Stockman's computer came a woman dressed in a foot clan uniform, two swords on her back. Raphael tilted his head as he looked at her. She walked the way his brother did when he knew he had to kill someone, intent and wary at the same time. He didn't recognize her, but he recognized the way that she moved and knew that she was a real threat.

"I am Karai," she said. "Adopted daughter of Oroku Saki and new leader of the--"

"Hey, sweetheart," he snapped, "we're kinda busy here. Go run along and let the men talk, huh?"

The taunt had the desired effect. She snarled and drew her sword, losing some of her focus in anger. "You wretched--disgusting little--I'll have your head on a pike outside my headquarters!"

Raphael flipped his sais into a ready position. If he had to fight her, he'd rather face her pissed off than cool and collected. To his disappointment, however, she did not immediately charge him. After a few seconds he realized how unlikely that would have been, even if he hadn't been backed up by his family.

"To me, my loyal clan!" Karai called out, looking expectantly at the door she'd just come from. Raphael felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he turned to face yet another bunch of ninja, but as the seconds passed and no one appeared, Karai looked in confusion down the dark corridor.

A head, still masked but bleeding profusely from its severed stump, rolled out and came to a stop at her feet. She gasped and took a step back, not noticing how her enemies recoiled, too. A second head followed, and a moment later Leonardo stepped into view with two dripping swords and blood splattered across his arms.

Breathing a sigh of relief that his brother didn't seem animalistic, Raphael recognized the weary determination in his brother's eyes. No doubt he was feeling the effects of whatever Stockman was broadcasting, occasionally shaking his head to clear it, but he wasn't as far gone as after the attack in the lair. Leonardo glanced at him once, not meeting his eyes before looking back at the floor.

"Guess I took the route with all the ninjas," he muttered more to himself than anyone else.

"My men," Karai whispered, staring at the blood and in shock that one turtle had killed so many.

"Is she the only one left?" Raphael asked his brother. He could save his anger for later. Right now they had to keep the family safe.

Leonardo nodded once. "Her and--" He paused and took a second look at the monitor. He hadn't paid attention to it when he walked in, thinking it was just an ordinary computer screen. "Is that--?"

"Thought you had destroyed me?" Stockman began boasting again. "You only managed to destroy my body, but now my genius--"

"Hope he's got an off switch," Leonardo said to himself, but he wasn't looking at Stockman anymore. Donatello always handled computers. April and Splinter would cover his back while he worked, and Raphael and Michelangelo would mop up any ninja that he'd missed. Big brother's always killed the leader.

With Stockman's voice providing the background noise that even sounded a bit like a rhythmic beat, Leonardo began walking towards Karai, who drew her own swords.

Unlike samurai who stood waiting for the first move, they began to circle, eyeing each other for the slightest weakness. Karai saw many. His right hand, his dominant sword hand, trembled from overexertion and the gouge near his throat, an older injury now bleeding again. He also moved with a slight limp that became more apparent as she watched. By the time they were each on the opposite side of the room from where they'd started, she was certain she would win with a few quick strikes.

Doing his best to ignore his family's stare, Leonardo was also sure he would win. Although he wished he wasn't so battered, he knew his injuries camouflaged his style. She would attack thinking only about the blood and not about his swords. And he already knew that she led with her right, telegraphing all her movements with her right leg.

When she lunged with a cry supposed to startle him, he sidestepped, ducking her swing and nearly ending the fight as he turned with a slice that only grazed the back of her neck, missing only because she stumbled and rolled when she didn't make contact.

"See, Mike," Raphael whispered, unable to stop himself. "That's why we practice falling and rolling."

Michelangelo didn't seem to hear him. In every fight they'd ever been through, he always felt the confidence of a little brother watching his big brother win against any opponent he went up against. Even under the influence of his mutating genetics, Leonardo always won. And he'd nearly decapitated this woman in one hit. Mike knew he should feel confident, and he wasn't sure why he didn't until Karai began backing towards the open hatch.

If she ran, his brother would follow. If they couldn't keep up, if they lost sight of him before he killed Karai, then he would simply keep running. If this thing twisting inside Leonardo's brain making him think he might kill his family wasn't stopped and Leonardo managed to stay out of their reach until he could commit suicide, then they would lose their big brother.

Mike twisted his nunchucks in his hands. The real fight wasn't between Leonardo and Karai.

Leonardo was dueling his own family. And Mike knew Leonardo always won.


	13. Chapter 13

At first Raphael stood still, enthralled by Leonardo's duel with Karai. He'd practiced with his brother for years and knew his moves, but Leonardo showed a calculated viciousness that had only been present when his mind struggled between turtle and monster. Twice he nearly sliced off one of Karai's arms, and even though she whirled away in time to save herself, he left deep gashes on her shoulder and her side. But he didn't escape unscathed, always coming back with new cuts across his shell. They both moved in perfect compliment to each other, and every tiny misstep cost them another cut.

A loud clang surprised all of them, although neither Leonardo nor Karai spared a glance at the door that Michelangelo slammed, spinning the lock shut and tightening it as hard as he could. Glancing at the two fighters just long enough to make sure they weren't nearing any of the other doors, Mike headed for the next one and started to close it as well.

The sound was enough to jolt Raphael out of watching the fight. Quickly realizing that his brother was sealing off the exits both to keep the monsters out and Leonardo and Karai in, he put a hand on Donatello's shoulder.

"Think you can turn off Stockman?"

Donatello nodded once with a grin that startled Raphael. "It'll be a pleasure."

Whipping his bo around in his hand, he started towards the huge monitor displaying Stockman's face. Staring at the plastic casing around the exposed brain, he raised his staff high and brought it down as hard as he could. The plastic didn't shatter as hoped but small pieces chipped off.

"You'd better work fast," Stockman laughed, not frightened in the least as the computer hummed in furious activity. "The door locks of this room are wired to my computer. In a few moments this room will be crawling with my creations, and I'm the only one safe from their teeth."

"What?" Karai gasped. She turned to face him but Leonardo's swords forced her to focus. "Stockman, call off your monsters!"

"Sorry, Karai, but I'm breaking off our deal. You can't help me anymore and--hey! Cut that out!"

Not answering, Donatello continued his assault on the casing and smiled in grim satisfaction as Stockman's voice turned less confident with every tiny crack and chip.

In the center of the room, although he was aware of his family moving around him, Leonardo felt in a strange sort of limbo, emotionally distant from his siblings. Somewhere along the way he knew he'd screwed up, but he couldn't tell exactly where. He winced as the constant static changed frequency, turning higher and drilling into his head. The induced hunger didn't go away but it grew more urgent, telling him that he was in danger of starving.

Not until he heard the scratches and screeching rushing closer did he realize what had happened. When he half-turned to look toward the only door still open, Karai took the opportunity to break away, choosing to retreat while she was outnumbered. Neither April nor Splinter tried to stop her, too busy keeping the doors closed as Stockman's computer tried to turn the locks open. She beat Michelangelo to the last door and raced into the corridor.

"No, don't--!" Leonardo yelled after her.

Too late. In the dim reddish light, Karai came to a halt, her eyes widening as hundreds of screamers fresh from ravaging New York charged towards her, spilling from around the corner like spiders. She looked back the way she'd come, but it was too far. They would be on her before she even made it halfway. Setting her mouth in a firm line, she raised her swords and faced the onslaught.

Before Leonardo saw her first slash connect with the nearest screamer, the door slammed shut. Like a marionette with its strings cut, he collapsed, his swords clattering out of his hands. He felt like he couldn't breathe as he looked around. Every door was shut. He knew he couldn't unlock them fast enough to escape. Trapped.

He blindly felt along the floor and found the hilt of one of the swords. Why was his hand shaking? It took him two tries before he managed to grasp it, adjusting his grip so that he was holding it backwards. If there was no other way, this would be how he kept his family safe from himself.

A gentle hand fell over his and forced his fingers open. In his state, it was as if he gave up willingly. A choked gasp escaped from him. Someone put their arms around him and held him close, not giving him a chance to reach for his sword again.

"You have to let me," he whispered raggedly. "It's so close--"

"No," Michelangelo answered. "Never."

"Mike..."

"You've taken care of us for years. Now it's our turn."

It would've been so easy to give in. Exhausted and hurting, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes in his brother's arms.

"It's pulling at me," he murmured. "A little higher and I won't be me anymore."

"Just hang on a little longer," Mike insisted. "All we gotta do is destroy Stockman and you won't have to worry about--"

"What's this I hear?" Stockman said, a wide smirk spreading over his digital face. The look of horror on Michelangelo's face was all the confirmation he needed. "I never would have expected it, but in retrospect, I see I should have. Of course your mutant genetics would render you more susceptible to my own unstable creations. Let's see...perhaps I don't need to unlock these doors so quickly after all."

They all felt the static increase in the small room, but Leonardo's stifled groan confirmed their worst fears. He twisted in Michelangelo's arms, straining to break free and crying out when his brother kicked the swords far from reach.

"Mike, I can't--it's slipping--"

"A little higher, perhaps?" Stockman said, his features flickering as Donatello's efforts became more frantic. The plastic case cracked down the middle and a corner flew off, but the brain still lay protected within.

Leonardo fell silent. The whole room paused, looking over their shoulder at the eldest brother. Everyone knew something had happened, but there was no way of knowing what.

"Leo?" Michelangelo held him a little tighter, tilting his head trying to see his brother's face. He wondered if his brother had fainted, but no, his breathing wasn't deep enough. Tightening his grip just in case, he tried again. "Leo, are you still with us?"

"Oh, honestly," Stockman said with a roll of his eyes. "I don't have all day--"

"That's it!" Raphael was used to dishonorable enemies, but Stockman's ego was just too much. He stomped over and pushed Donatello away, putting the tip of his sai at the broken corner.

"What? No--!" Stockman yelled.

"Go to hell, you bastard!" Raphael punctuated every syllable with a thrust of his sai into the exposed brain that he could get at, chopping deep into it and angling his strikes to hit as much as possible. Blood flew up and splattered the casing, and with each thrust, Stockman's face on the screen jerked until all emotion left his eyes. His face went flat and flickered a few times until the screen finally went dark.

Not noticing his enemy's death, Raphael kept stabbing, turning the brain into little more than paste. Finally Donatello grabbed him and shook him once.

"Raph, enough!"

With shuddering breaths, Raphael growled and stared at the screen, then blinked. He looked back at the mess that remained inside the case, then looked up at Donatello. He wondered why he didn't feel satisfied and as he caught his breath, he realized why he was still on edge.

"If he's dead, why do I still feel it?"

Donatello frowned. The computer itself was still broadcasting signals calling all the monsters. If he could have accessed the mainframe, he probably could have stopped it, but there were no keyboards or buttons. The brain itself had been built into the machine. He looked around the back for a power source and found several cables hooked into the wall, but even after breaking them free, the computer kept humming.

"I think it's got a back-up power source," he sighed. "We're gonna have to destroy the whole thing."

"Don, you couldn't even get through the little plastic box," Raphael said. "How're we supposed to break through the whole thing?"

"You don't have to," April called from the other side of the room. "You've cut out part of the brain, so the inner machinery is exposed. If we sink the ship, it'll flood."

Raphael looked at Donatello and tilted his head.

"It could work," Donatello said. "But we'd have to get out of here to do it. Right now there are four doors and all of them lead to monsters. We're trapped."

Taking a deep breath, Raphael leaned against the computer and shook his head. "Listen. Can you hear it?"

They all paused. In the still air, beyond the thick metal doors, the screams and scratching of claws on steel gave way to the wet sounds of ripping skin and teeth crunching bones. April looked down and grimaced. Blood trickled in from a crack in the bottom of the door.

"We can wait here for a few minutes," Raphael said. "With any luck, they'll eat enough of 'emselves to give us a chance to break out."

Mike looked up at him. "But what about Leo?"

Raphael winced. The whole family was safe for the moment except for Leonardo, but if he tried to move them, then everyone would be in danger. Had his big brother ever faced this kind of dilemma? Probably all the time, he thought.

He walked over and knelt beside them, touching Leonardo's shoulder. Hissing as if the touch hurt, Leo curled closer into Michelangelo's arms. Raphael drew his hand back.

"Did he say anything before Stockman cranked that static up?" he asked.

"Not really," Michelangelo said with a shrug. "He said it felt like he was slipping, but he's been saying that ever since this all started. But we gotta get him out of here."

"We will," Raphael promised. "As soon as we got a chance of getting out alive."

A heavy metallic clunk interrupted him. Knowing better than to hope it didn't mean anything, he stood up and looked around, wondering if some kind of trap had been sprung. A few seconds later, the clunk was followed by what sounded like a loud clock ticking slowly.

"Oh crap," Donatello muttered. "I think I know what that is."

He ran to one of the doors and put his hand against the lock, groaning as he realized he was right.

"What is it?" Raphael asked.

"The computer must be tied into the locking mechanisms here. We were able to throw them manually, but now it's triggered its internal controls--"

"Don, the short version?"

Donatello twirled his staff and took a few steps back. "They're gonna open any second now."

"All of them?" Raphael whispered.

As if in response, the locks snapped open. April rushed forward to try to hold the door nearest her shut, but something heavy on the other side pushed it open. She stumbled back and landed on her rear, grimacing as half-eaten screamer bodies rolled up to her feet. A few feeders came into the room, but they were too busy flailing at screamers gnawing on their backs and legs that Splinter easily dispatched them before they reached her.

Only a handful other monsters came out of the other entrances, and Raphael edged close to one, curious to see why they weren't being overrun. Blood and torn flesh covered the corridor where Stockman's creations had gone into a feeding frenzy. The few survivors didn't look like they'd last more than a couple minutes as they devoured each other. He even spotted a screamer in the corner biting its own leg.

"What the hell?" he murmured. A quick glance at the others told him the other exits were much the same. "Not that I mind, but what happened?"

"I think I get it," April said. "It was when he tried to affect Leonardo. He maxed out the signal telling them that they were hungry. With all of them in one spot, it was inevitable that they attack each other."

"Efficient little eating machines," Donatello added.

"Okay," Raphael said, taking a deep breath. He couldn't help glancing once at Spinter, but for some reason their father didn't look like he was going to interfere with Raphael's decisions. "Then let's get going. But be careful. Just 'cause most of 'em are dead doesn't mean all of 'em are."

"Which way?" Donatello asked. "I don't remember which door we came out of."

"Um..." He tried to recall but shook his head after a moment. "Neither do I. Any suggestions?"

While everyone else conferred about how to get off the ship, Michelangelo gave his brother a soft shake. "Leo, time to get up. We gotta go."

The only response was a pained shake of the head.

"I know it hurts," Mike said. "But it'll get better the farther we get away from here. I can't fight and carry you at the same. I don't think you'd want me to carry you anyway."

When he didn't get a response, he sighed and tried one more time. "Stockman's dead, for real this time. The Foot clan's gone and I don't think that Karai chick made it. All you have to do is walk out of this ship and it'll be okay again. Can't you at least try?"

His brother sounded far away and underwater, but Leonardo understood everything. If his brothers were right, he was only a few minutes from escaping the pain, but he didn't think he could stand up, let alone walk. His right arm was too sore to move, almost numb from the re-opened slice near his throat, and his leg felt like dead weight. The static in his head made it impossible to hear more than his brother's voice, adding near deafness to his weakened eyesight. And although he knew his sudden ravenous hunger was induced by Stockman's computer, having his sibling so close made him want to throw up.

Worse, how could he face his family after everything he'd done? Better if they just left him here with the rest of the monsters.

"Please? We still need you, big bro'."

Leonardo sighed. "That's not fair."

Michelangelo grinned. Victory. When in doubt, just appeal to his brother's overdeveloped sense of duty. "No, but it's true. C'mon, you can lean on me 'till we get home."

"And then what?" Leo muttered. "We go back to the way things were?"

"Nah," Mike said as he stood, bringing Leonardo up with him and keeping one arm firmly around his waist both to help him walk and to keep him from running away again. "Then you can lean on all of us."


	14. Chapter 14

The walk out of the submarine proved far easier than the walk in. Raphael and Donatello took the lead while April and Splinter brought up the rear, killing the occasional creature and keeping Michelangelo and Leonardo well protected in the middle. Although the lights flickered or were completely dark in some spots, smashed by the wild cannibalism of Stockman's creatures, enough light remained that Raphael managed to backtrack through the gloom.

"Do you hear that?" Donatello whispered.

"Yeah," Raphael answered.

"Hear what?" Mike asked before he heard it. Very faint but definitely there, the sound of claws on steel. He would have felt worried if he thought they were coming closer, but they always stayed on the edge of his hearing.

"Leo?" he whispered. "Can tell you tell how many are still alive?"

Leaning on his little brother's shoulder and too tired to curse his weakness, Leonardo nodded once. The farther he walked, the less intense the static became. The screamers' scratching added one more noise to the cacophony of the ship swaying on ocean waves and his family moving around him.

"Not many," he said softly. "They won't come closer."

"How can you tell?" Michelangelo asked.

Leonardo almost didn't answer. Even though Michelangelo had been in Stockman's game and had seen the nightmare he'd lived for three months, he still felt the urge to protect him. He didn't want Michelangelo to have to experience any of the horrors he accepted as normal. But as gruesome as the answer was, it relieved him to know they were safe.

"They're still eating each other."

"...oh." Mike grimaced, then paled as a thought occurred to him. His brother's teeth were right next to his throat. "Um, you're not hungry, are you?"

"Starving," Leonardo answered.

"Uh..."

His brother's nervousness almost made him smile. Maybe Michelangelo finally believed that his sibling could hurt him. Figures that he'd start believing now that the danger was passing.

"I won't bite you," Leo mumbled.

"But isn't that what the computer's telling you--?"

"Yes." Leonardo grit his teeth and forced himself to continue. "But the thought makes me sick."

"Oh. Good." Michelangelo winced at himself. "Um, I mean not good that you're feeling bad, but good that you won't hurt me, 'cause I told you that you'd never hurt me and at least you're finally listening--"

"Mike," Raphael whispered harshly. "Quit rambling and focus."

Donatello nodded. "Yeah, we're not out of the woods yet."

"Or the big spooky ship," Michelangelo said.

"There's nothing nearby," Leonardo murmured. "Should be a straight shot out."

"Maybe," Raphael said. "If Stockman didn't set traps for us, or if that static isn't drowning out the sound of those things moving around, or if Stockman didn't create a buncha new quiet monsters..."

The darkness hid Leonardo's smile. He doubted Raphael would like knowing his brother enjoyed hearing him worry out loud, but listening to him agonizing over everything that could go wrong felt like such a weight off his shoulders. Especially when he knew for sure there was nothing nearby that could hurt them.

They didn't relax until they stepped off the ship without incident, coming out into the moonlight on a empty dock. Only the waves broke the silence as they looked around, scanning for straggling monsters. All they spotted were a few floating carcasses.

"Oh no, they're in the water," April said softly. "You think they'll contaminate the sea life?"

"Maybe not," Donatello answered. "Leo's human friends weren't affected. With any luck, their genetics should just disperse into nothing."

A few feet away, Michelangelo found a clean patch of pavement to stop on, helping his brother down to rest. It seemed useless to choose a bloodless spot when they were both dripping, but he couldn't help it. He sat down by his brother's side and let him lean on his shoulder.

"How you doing?" he whispered.

"I've been better," Leonardo said. He squinted in the light coming from the city. It wasn't overwhelming, but it stung.

A few feet away, Raphael glanced at his big brother and then back at the ship. They were safely out. Now all they had to do was sink the ship and their problems were over. He sighed. Well, their Stockman problems were over anyway.

"Donnie," he said. "Any ideas how to blow this thing up?"

"No problem," Donatello said. "I've got enough torpedoes on the sub to blow it to the moon."

"The bottom of the ocean'll do," Raphael said. "Bring the sub closer, huh? April, go with him. I don't want anyone by themselves if there are any demons swimming around."

She nodded and followed Donatello back to the sub. They both kept an eye on the water's surface as they went inside, but nothing happened and after a few minutes, the submarine's engines revved up and quickly closed the distance between them and the ship. Michelangelo watched it come towards him, the waves tossed up behind it splashing the edge of the dock.

"Ready to go?" Mike asked.

Leonardo didn't answer at first. Although he didn't argue when his brother helped him back to his feet, he kept staring at a small stretch of concrete a little ways from the ship. To Michelangelo, it looked like the rest of the dock, blood splattered and covered in monster footprints, so his brother's soft laugh surprised him.

"Leo?"

"She survived," Leonardo said.

"What?"

"The woman I was fighting. Look," he pointed at a few different spots on the dock. "You can see her footprints walking away from here."

"Leo, she was in the ship when those things went nuts," Michelangelo said. "There's no way she survived. Those could be anyone's footprints."

"There's a darker streak in the middle front where her shoes split," Leonardo argued. "And they're close with a long drag to her left leg. She was probably hurt bad, but she survived."

Michelangelo stared at the spot again, not seeing anything besides a meaningless mess. But he didn't want to argue, even though that woman had tried to kill his brother. He shrugged and helped lead his brother towards the sub.

"If you say so."

Although Donatello pulled the sub as close as possible to the edge of the dock, Michelangelo had to help his brother cross the small gap and move steadily across the wet metal surface of the boat without slipping. As they came to the circular hatch, he felt Leonardo tense and take a deep breath, gathering his strength. Cold chills ran through his body and he tightened his grip on Leonardo's arm so much that his brother yelped.

"If you even think about jumping--" Michelangelo started.

"I'm not gonna run," Leonardo said. "But I'm not getting carried inside, either."

Even so, Michelangelo made sure to position himself on the side of the sub facing the ocean, letting go of his brother just long enough for Leonardo to jump down. He followed right behind, ready to stop his brother if he tried to surprise him and dash back out. Instead he found him curling up in one of the back seats, doing his best to disappear into the darkness.

Michelangelo tilted his head. His brother lay with his eyes closed, his injured leg not curling as much as the other and with his head tilted toward the deep wound in his shoulder. His breath came in short, labored gasps. He looked uncomfortable but too tired to try to change position. They'd all been injured at some point in their lives, but Michelangelo thought that this was the first time he'd seen his Leonardo so exhausted.

He sat down behind him and pulled his brother against himself, holding him close. Leonardo's skin felt cold and he wondered how much blood he'd lost.

"Guess it'll be awhile before I can go out again," Leonardo whispered.

Not bothering to argue, Michelangelo smiled and held him tighter. His brother was trapped in the sub and couldn't get away, and when they got home, he'd be safe under several watchful guards who wouldn't let him hurt himself. But Leonardo had been through other dark times and this temporary imprisonment would likely be just that, temporary.

"Sooner than you think," Mike promised. "And if you need to get out for awhile even sooner, then I'll go with you. Make sure you stay out of trouble."

Leonardo laughed once and didn't say anything else, but he put his hand on Michelangelo's, holding him close. He kept his eyes shut when Splinter came in and sat near the front, but he did glance up when Raphael came in. He had to make sure everyone was safe inside, then he could relax, but looking meant meeting his brother's eyes.

Restrained anger. His brother looked ready to yell at him right there, but first they had to destroy the ship and get back home. Probably get their big brother bandaged up and dosed with painkillers, too. Then he could let loose some of the anger visible in his face. Leonardo knew that glare well from many nights bringing one of them home hurt from some stupid stunt.

He flinched and turned away.

Raphael's order to destroy the ship, the muted sound of torpedoes launching before the painfully loud explosion and the groan of steel drifting under the waves, all happened in a few seconds. The rest of the ride went by in agonizing stillness. The sub blocked out even the comforting sound of the currents flowing across its surface so that he only heard several heartbeats and soft breathing like a suffocating blanket. By the time they reached home, the deafening clang of the hatch opening and breaking the silence was almost a relief.

Raphael stood up and ushered everyone out, suggesting that April go make sure Casey was all right and that Donatello go get the sick room ready once again. Although Splinter waited a moment to make sure Leonardo could climb out, the looks he received from both Raphael and Michelangelo wordlessly told him that he wasn't needed. Once he left, Michelangelo turned his attention back to his big brother.

"Think you can climb out on your own?" Michelangelo asked softly.

Leonardo glanced at the open hatch. "Yeah...but not much after."

"The sooner you're out of here," Raphael said, "the sooner you can go to sleep."

The gentleness in his brother's voice surprised him but he nodded once and leaned on Michelangelo, watching him go up first and then following. When he came out, his whole body trembled from the effort and he let Mike set his arm around his shoulders, supporting him as they stood.

"Forgot to ask," Michelangelo said as they cross the lair. "Is that static gone now?"

"It went away a couple minutes after the ship went down. Still doesn't feel right, though." He sighed and lowered his head. He didn't need to see to find his way to the damn sick room. "That last burst he gave me, still feel it in the back of my head."

"Like the signal's still there?" Raphael asked. He would've helped him walk but Leonardo couldn't move his right arm without flexing the wound at the base of his throat.

"No," Leonardo said. "Like--like the bad part of a hangover."

Raphael glanced at him, surprised by the admission. "And when did you find out what that feels like?"

"Th' time you took off for three days without even calling."

"Just that once?" Raphael asked. "Never thought you'd drink while one of us was missing."

"He didn't," Michelangelo argued. "Heck, he didn't really go to sleep until after you came home."

"Couldn' sleep," Leonardo said. "Too on edge. The drink helped, but I'd never tried it before. The next morning really hurt."

They reached the room. Not responding, Raphael held open the door and waited for them to go in. He wished he'd heard about that another time. It would be funnier hearing about his brother getting drunk and suffering a hangover if Leonardo wasn't so beaten down right now. He could clearly imagine Leonardo sitting in his bedroom watching everything turn fuzzy, losing the ability to stand without wobbling, watching the lights go out and trying to relax now that his younger brother was finally home safe in one piece even if he was afraid it was wishful thinking, that it was just a nice dream and in a moment he'd wake up with Raphael still missing...

Raphael followed them in. It'd probably be a lot funnier if he didn't know exactly how hopelessness felt.


	15. Chapter 15

At least the bed was comfortable. So was Michelangelo's shoulder. Leonardo paid little attention to the hum of his brothers around him, content to drowse with his eyes shut against the light and Michelangelo's arm around him to keep him steady.

"--listening at all?"

"I think he's asleep--"

"No, he's tired but he ain't--"

"--hand me that needle, Raph--"

Wincing in anticipation, Leonardo turned slightly and felt Michelangelo's arm tighten around him, pulling him a few inches closer. The needle came biting into his shoulder, and he pressed his face against his brother's neck as liquid fire poured into his blood and spread through his body. When Donatello withdrew the needle, the pain faded to a dull throb and Leonardo drew in a ragged breath.

"--was that?"

"Painkillers. Trust me, it'll make the rest of this a lot easier--"

"--can't just knock him out?"

"--better if he goes to sleep naturally--"

Were they whispering? Probably, but they sounded as if they were yelling back and forth across a wide room and there was no blocking them out. That his head was swimming was probably a mercy. Their words faded in and out of his head. At least they served to distract him a little from the pull of torn skin as someone gently straightened his lame leg.

Stitches came without warning. Or maybe they had warned him and he just didn't hear. They didn't hurt as much as an injection, but each pierce stung more intensely than Karai's sword or a screamer's bite that cut or stabbed and then tore away, quick and transient. Donatello's focus made each suture flare up and die down until the long gash drew shut. The soft touch of bandages covered it completely but drew tight so that he felt the long line deep within the muscle.

"--you sure about--?"

"--down here, can't risk infection--"

"--will the pain killers kick--?"

He couldn't focus. He understood less of what they said as their voices faded to whispers. Probably whatever Donatello had injected him full of or perhaps nothing more than simple exhaustion, but either way, his whole body felt heavier and his breaths came slower and deeper.

"--asleep yet?"

"--might be trying to stay awake--"

"--just out of it--"

Someone put their hand under his jaw and tilted his head back, exposing the old bite in his throat. The area around it didn't hurt as much as it had long since gone numb. This time there were no needles, only a patch of bandages and cotton and tape to hold it secure.

"--can't let him sleep like--"

"--already cleaned the cuts--"

"--but still--"

"--he'd hate it if--"

"--all of us could use one--"

Michelangelo said something else a moment later, but he didn't hear it. He heard the rush of running water somewhere nearby, and then the unmistakable sound of water filling a bucket. The constant noise slowly drowned out every other noise before fading itself, dying away until the entire world was dark and silent.

He didn't dream but he knew he was sleep. The nothingness was a comfort, a welcome break from the nightmares and anxiety of the last week. Stockman was dead, the creatures were dead, the ship lay on the ocean floor. He couldn't be sure but there was a chance, a real chance, that he wouldn't turn into a mindless killer again.

If they never trusted him again, he could live with their suspicion. If Splinter never forgave him, he could live with that. He could live with anything as long as he knew they'd live.

But he would face all that later. For now, he would relax in a nothingness that echoed the peace of a grave.

"Finally," Michelangelo whispered. "I thought he'd never fall asleep."

From his seat on the floor, Raphael looked up and watched his little brother ease Leonardo down onto the bed, using a damp cloth to wash the last remnants of blood from his side before he pulled the blanket over him. As if sensing the loss of his brother's touch, Leonardo moaned softly in his sleep and turned toward the sound of their voices.

"Stay with him, Mike," Raphael whispered. "He's prone to some pretty rough nightmares. Don't want him to rip those cuts open again in his sleep."

"I'm not going anywhere," Michelangelo reassured him, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. At once Leonardo stilled and relaxed again.

"That can't be healthy," Donatello said as he tossed a clean cloth in the tub of water he'd just filled. "Think he's like that every night, or just when he's hurt?"

"Just when he's hurt bad, although I wouldn't put it past him to hide it somehow when he's not," Raphael answered. "He gonna be okay?"

As he leaned over his brother and carefully washed away the blood, Donatello nodded. "The bites are the worst, and those'll heal up with a little time. He tore them a little wider with all the fighting, but that's nothing new."

Too edgy to sit still, Michelangelo busied himself by unwrapping a few more bandages for the smaller cuts Karai had left. The ripping paper sounded loud in the small room and he glanced at Leonardo, but his brother remained fast asleep. Even so, he opened each packet slowly and tried to muffle the noise between his hands.

"So," Michelangelo said, "what now?"

Raphael and Donatello both hesitated as they considered that simple question, and Michelangelo paused to look at them. All of them knew something had to be done, but none of them knew what. Raphael even glanced at Leonardo, his instinct to hear fearless leader's idea first too strong to ignore. Even if he often panned those ideas.

"I'm not sure," Raphael admitted. "But something's got to change. Stockman and his little monsters were bad enough, but really? Stockman's not the one that almost killed Leo."

"He's not going to change," Donatello said softly, cleaning off a streak of blood across his brother's throat. "Even if we somehow got Splinter to lay off the whole 'constant anticipation of attack' thing, Leo would still be paranoid."

"I know, I know." Raphael bent his knee and rested his head on his arm, tired enough to fall asleep on the floor. "But he was getting better before this crap started again. If he hadn't been so hellbent on protecting us from himself, he wouldn't of run off."

Michelangelo tilted his head. "But he did lose control and try to kill you." He flinched when Raphael glared at him but he didn't back down. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"No!" Energized by his anger, Raphael growled and got to his feet, looming over his little brother. "I might've run, yeah, but I wouldn't of tried to off myself. I would of--I would of locked myself up somewhere, gone killing those things, sure, but I would've been trying to stay alive."

"And if you couldn't come home again?" Donatello asked, not looking at him as he applied the first of several small bandages to his brother's arms and sides. "If you thought that you couldn't stop that static from turning you into something evil every now and then?"

Raphael shrugged. "Dunno. Stay away from home, head up to the farm maybe. I'd know you guys would come up with something eventually."

"You don't know that for certain," Donatello said. "You might've been stranded up there forever away from everyone."

"You could'a visited, called, hell, emailed," Raphael snapped. "It wouldn't of been a death sentence."

"Not for you," Donatello said. "But Leo...remember what he said about leaving home?"

Although Leonardo hadn't spoken about that for several months, the memory of his first attempt to leave flashed in Raphael's mind. He nodded once and glanced at his sleeping brother. "Anyplace that ain't home, it's all the same. The same as being dead, anyway. But that wasn't the only reason, Don."

Donatello finished taping the last bandage in place, then sat back with a sigh. His whole body ached and most of his legs and arms were covered in drying, itchy blood. The water in the tub looked the color of rust, so he took it to the sink and dumped it down the drain, rinsing the tub out and filling it again. Taking a shower could wait, but he had to at least clean off the worst of it.

"I know," he said, slowly wiping the blood from his hands. "Splinter didn't make this any easier. Neither did we. But the person who made this hardest on Leo was Leo himself."

"So...okay." Michelangelo shifted on the edge of the bed to face them better. "Leo's his own worst enemy. We know that. It's not like we can tell him to stop. And no matter how hard we try, I don't think we can watch him forever, either."

Snagging a washcloth from the pile of clean linens Donatello kept stocked, Raphael plunged it into the same tub, splashing water on the counter as he washed the worst of the night's work off his skin.

"I don't think we'll have to," Raphael said, speaking slowly as the plan slowly took shape in his thoughts. "Yeah, he's grounded for awhile. We're gonna keep a close eye on him just in case he thinks this ain't over and tries something stupid, but I don't think he's gonna try to off himself now. As long as he knows there's no way he'd hurt us, he'll stay put."

"We gonna take turns watching him again?" Michelangelo asked.

"Yeah. But listen," he said, looking both of them in the eye. "Just 'cause I don't think he'll do anything doesn't mean you should trust him yet. He won't lie, but he's gotten real good at twisting the truth around 'till it ain't the truth anymore."

They both nodded.

"Okay. Okay, um..." Raphael breathed out and stared at the door. "Listen. I'm gonna go talk to Splinter. I can't solve everything in one conversation, but he's got to know he can't expect Leo to keep living like this."

"That's just it, though," Donatello said. "He hasn't been living like that. You took over for him--"

"It's--complicated," Raphael said. "Yeah, I took over a lot of what he did, but he still...he kept watch over us, he tried to kill any threats before we got close. In a way, I think it was harder for him. He wanted to keep us safe but he didn't have the authority like before."

"Then what do we do?" Michelangelo asked, his voice tinged with panic. "He can't stop being paranoid, he's drowning when he's responsible for us, he's drowning even worse if he's not."

Raphael held up a hand to cut him off. "We take it slow. Keep him here under watch. Give him time to heal. I'll talk with Splinter, tell him we can't accept Leo being a nervous wreck all the time. That he's gotta stop expecting perfection all the damn time."

"So Leo still has 'Splinter issues'?" Donatello asked, remembering Leonardo's outburst at their master over the phone.

Raphael nodded. The whole relationship between Leonardo and Splinter was complicated and not entirely healthy, and he didn't like the idea of trying to change it when both of them were not likely to change. But maybe he wouldn't have to. Leonardo's outburst was the first time he'd really stood up against Splinter. Maybe Leo might move away from Splinter's idea of what he should be on his own.

He exhaled and rubbed his eyes. All he wanted to see was his comfortable hammock, but he knew he had to deal with Splinter first. He stretched and tried to ignore his creeping exhaustion.

"I'm gonna go talk with Splinter, get it over with," Raphael said. "One of you stay with Leo, the other one can take a shower, get some sleep."

"Uh, Raph?" Michelangelo said.

"Yeah?"

"What about that big dead thing in front of the door? We just gonna leave it there?"

Raphael groaned. "Oh yeah, forgot about it. Fine, the one who don't stay with Leo can keep cutting it apart. Once I'm done with Splinter, I'll come help. If we're lucky, we'll get rid of it before the night's over."

"You mean before lunchtime," Donatello said, motioning at the clock. "It's morning now."

They all stared at the little numbers of the counter-top digital display. After a moment it ticked off another minute. Seven thirty-three. They'd been gone for several hours.

"Weird," Mike mumbled, "didn't seem that long."

"Mike," Donatello said, "how 'bout you take a shower and come back here with Leo. Then I can get to work on the dead thing."

"You sure?" Mike asked, but his words stretched into an unintelligible yawn. Smiling sheepishly, he laughed at himself and stood up. "Sure. Good idea."

Donatello watched him leave. As soon as Michelangelo was too far to hear them, he turned back to Raphael, placing a hand on Leo's shoulder when he heard his brother mumble in his sleep.

"You said not to trust Leo," Donatello started. "What about Splinter? You think he'll yell at Leo again? That's the last thing big brother needs."

"I don't know," Raphael said. "If I get that vibe offa Splinter, I'll come tell you. Just another reason not to leave Leo alone."

Not knowing what else to say, he took one more look at Leonardo to reassure himself that he was still there, then walked out and across the lair towards Splinter's room. Steeling himself for an argument, he took a deep breath and knocked on his master's door.


	16. Chapter 16

"This can't keep going on."

Raphael spoke softly but his voice carried through the dark room, interrupting Splinter as he lit the candles by his side. Without waiting for an answer, Raphael sat down in front of his master and met his gaze.

"He endangered you," Splinter said. "He endangered all of you--"

"This ain't a conversation," Raphael cut him off. "I know you got reasons, but I don't care if you're right or wrong. You almost killed Leo tonight."

Splinter raised his head. "Raphael, I understand that you are frustrated and upset, but the greatest danger lies in Leonardo's irrational behavior."

"Tch," Raphael said, feeling stung on his brother's behalf. "You ain't helping, either. If I hadn't got that phone away from you, he probably would'a hung up, and then he would've gone into that ship even more distracted. Hell, he couldn't even bear to look at you when we came home."

"Because he knew he had failed to protect you," Splinter said. "Worse, his actions put you all at risk."

"That ain't fair," Raphael said. "He can't act perfect all the time, no matter how much he--no. No matter how much you want him to."

With an exasperated sigh, Splinter shook his head. "We have been over this already. You know why he was brought up the way he was. His duty is to protect you three in ways that you cannot."

"Which is why he's always alert to any attack that we might miss when we're goofing off," Raphael said.

"Exactly." Splinter closed his eyes in mild relief that his son understood.

"What happens when that paranoia and stress finally give him a nervous breakdown?" Raphael asked, then paused and shook his head. "Wait, scratch that, he already had a nervous breakdown. He ran away and came back even worse. So you tell me, Splinter, what happens when he finally just collapses in on himself and can't fight no more? What then? We stay underground forever 'cause we might get hurt?"

Splinter held silent, but the look in his eyes was not one of shame or defiance. Raphael knew that look from the rare times Leonardo held something back to camouflage the truth. Now he knew where his brother had learned that annoying habit.

"No..." Raphael murmured, slowly thinking out his master's possible chain of thought. "No, there's too much riding on this war against the Foot clan. But if we need him so bad, then...oh geez."

He shook his head as if to deny it to himself, but the hint of defiance in Splinter's eyes made him realize he was right.

"You'd force him back. Tell him it was his duty. Make him fight even if was breaking." Raphael stared at him in growing horror. "He'd be like a bag of broken glass. He wouldn't be Leo, he'd be a freakin' robot."

"No," Splinter whispered, startled by Raphael's conclusion. "Duty and honor and his love for you would give him the strength to continue, no matter how weary he grew."

"It's the same thing!" Raphael said. "You're just calling it something different! It's sick--"

"His desire to protect you is not sick," Splinter said. His fur bristled at the accusation.

"No, but it's making him sick. It's--God, why can't you see what you're doing to him?"

Splinter's tail whipped from side to side betraying his agitation. "You said yourself he was improving. I have made allowances because of his need for rest, but I cannot permit him to risk everything he has worked for his entire life. When he is well--"

"We'll decide when he's okay again," Raphael cut him off. His accent grew thicker as his exhaustion and anger caught up to him. "And if he does go back to watching us, he ain't gonna do it alone and we ain't gonna sit back and do nothing. If you keep treating us like we can't do anything, we never will."

"Raphael--"

"No," he snapped. "This time we're deciding what happens. And one more thing. Don't you dare yell at Leo. Don't lecture him, don't tell him he was wrong, nothing. You wanna visit him? You don't say you're disappointed or that he screwed up or any shit like that."

Without waiting for Splinter's response, he stood up and headed for the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at him.

"Master...he already knows he screwed up. He's already on his own guilt trip. If you try to pile on any more, we may never get him back."

No response, but he didn't expect any. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he left Splinter's room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the huge dead demon in front of their door and sighed. It would be a long time before they chopped it up and got rid of it.

As soon as he woke, despite the dull headache and sharp pain in his leg and shoulder, Leonardo sat up and looked around the empty room. The light had been left low enough that he was sure everyone else could see but didn't leave him blind. He gingerly touched the patch of bandages across the bite in his shoulder and tried to raise his arm, but moving it even a few inches sent sharp jolts through his chest.

From his right, he heard someone sigh and turned to see who it was, but the slightest movement pulled on the bandages on his shoulder and twisted the wound underneath.

"Do I really need to tell you to lay down and rest?" Donatello asked as he sat in the chair beside the bed.

"No, I will. It's just..." Leonardo glanced at the closed door as if he might see through it. "Mike and Raph, they're okay?"

"Some cuts and scratches, nothing life-threatening," Donatello said. "Mike went to sleep, but Raph had a talk with Splinter first and--"

"What?" Leonardo's eyes widened and his breathing quickened. "No, he shouldn't have--Splinter could--is Raphael still there? How long've I been asleep--?"

"He's okay. He already came out." Donatello put his hand on Leonardo's to reassure him. "He went back to taking that dead thing apart so we can use the front door again."

"...are you sure he's all right?"

Donatello frowned, surprised by his brother. Leonardo usually trusted him when he said their siblings were fine. "If you want, I can go call him over."

Leonardo hesitated for a few seconds, then shook his head. "No--no. I don't--he's busy."

"I promise he won't yell at you," Donatello said. He couldn't help his smile. Leonardo's worry seemed so transparent as he refused to meet his eyes. He reminded him a bit of Michelangelo when he'd been scolded, except where Mike usually moped and hung his head, Leonardo looked like he was ready to scold himself if no one else would. "And believe me, he'll be happy for any excuse to take a break from cutting that thing apart."

Donatello stood and crossed the room, halfway out the door when he hesitated. Raphael had warned them not to leave their elder brother alone for any reason, not even for a little while, and he couldn't help glancing at the medical instruments he had left on the far counter.

"Leo…" he said slowly, "can I trust you not to do anything bad while I go get him? I mean, no trying to hurt yourself, nothing like that?"

For a moment Leonardo didn't reply, silently considering. After a few seconds, he glanced up. "Is there even the slightest chance I might lose control again? That I might attack you?"

"No way." Donatello smiled and opened the door a little wider. "The signal Stockman used to control his creatures was a unique variable frequency carried through several different transmitters. The odds of that happening are super slim. I mean, there'd have to be an error in the television broadcasts and then--"

"So it could happen."

The flat whisper made ice in Donatello's veins. Even worse was the strange look of lost focus on his brother's face, as if he was deliberately walking off a cliff. Although he knew he could physically stop Leonardo from doing anything to himself, Donatello didn't wait for him to glance at the scalpel and pills in the corner. He leaned out of the door and shouted for Raphael.

The footsteps that sped towards them made it clear Raphael thought Leonardo was in the middle of slicing open a vein, but when he didn't see anything of the sort, he didn't look any happier. He couldn't help shooting a glare at Donatello.

"How about next time you don't make it sound like he's dying?" he said, dropping his sword on the ground and grabbing a rag off the counter to wipe his hands clean.

"It's not his fault," Leonardo mumbled. "I'm just too tired to think clear enough right now."

Raphael blinked. His brother wasn't the only exhausted one, and he took a few seconds to figure out what Leonardo meant. After a quick glance around the room, he sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Leo, we're not gonna leave you alone long enough to try anything," he started, "but I don't want you trying anything anyway."

"He said I might lose control again."

About to yell at his other sibling, Raphael glared at Donatello only to find him waving his hands frantically.

"Don't bite my head off," Donatello said. "That's not what I said. He wanted to know if he might ever attack us again, and I said no, but then I started explaining the technical aspect of broadcast signals and all of you have always been pretty shaky on the difference between realistic probabilities and meaningful probabilities...in a technical sense."

The sentence didn't make any more sense after Raphael thought about if for a few seconds. He sighed and stared at the ground.

"Don, we've all been up way too long. Is there any way you could say that so me and Leo get it?"

Donatello bit his lip and leaned back against the wall, losing himself in thought. While he waited, Raphael put his arm around his older brother and pulled him close, a little relieved that Leonardo let him.

"Raph?" Leonardo said, his eyes shut as if he couldn't summon the strength to open them. "Don said you went and talked to Splinter. Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Raphael said with a nod. "We both got angry and I yelled at him a lot, but--"

"You yelled at him?" Leonardo whispered.

"I didn't grow up with him feeding me that self-sacrifice crap like you did," Raphael said. "And you're not gonna get it anymore, either. He's not allowed to talk to you without one of us here. And you're not allowed to listen to him until we tell you he's right or he's full of it again, 'least until you can figure that out on your own."

"But Raphael--that's--I mean he's--"

"Leo, if he hurt one of us, you wouldn't let us near him," Raphael said. "Right?"

Leonardo nodded once.

"So we're just doing the same for you." He held him a little tighter. Despite all this, he still felt relieved that he had him home in one morose piece. "It'll all seem better after you've slept, okay? Trust me?"

"Don't really have a choice," Leonardo mumbled. "I know I'm not thinking straight."

"You're exhausted." Donatello came over to sit beside them. "Leo, you need to know this now. There's a difference between what's possible in the real world and what computers think is possible. The odds of an electrical signal being just right to set you off again can't happen. There's a tiny possibility it could, but it's the kind of possibility that's a really tiny decimal point. It's like hitting a the head of a pin with a throwing star while backwards and blindfolded. It's possible, but so improbable that it's just not going to happen."

"…the head of a pin?" Leonardo tilted his head. "Mm."

Raphael smiled at his smartest sibling. "Ten bucks says he's thinking of a way to try it."

"He's also blitzed from the past couple of days," Donatello said. "We've gotta stay with him even while he's asleep, right?"

"Yeah, but while he's still kind of awake…" Raphael gave Leonardo a tiny shove. "Hey, wake up. I need you to promise me something."

"Mmf. What?"

"You gotta promise you won't try to hurt or kill yourself, okay?"

Silence. At first Raphael thought his brother had fallen asleep on his shoulder already, but then Leonardo leaned back and put one hand over his face, fending off sleep for just a few more moments.

"…won't hurt you?"

"No, you won't hurt us," Donatello said.

"…'kay."

The murmured response barely reached them, but Raphael smiled in relief as if his brother had been wide awake. He looked over his brother at Donatello.

"Best not to leave him alone until he promises when he's wide awake, but for now, that'll do."

Between the two of them, they helped settle Leonardo back on his pillow and brought the covers up again. His brother looked so comfortable that Donatello yawned and didn't move when Raphael stood.

"I think I'm just gonna crash with him," he said. "Tell Mike he can come in later, okay?"

"Sure thing," Raphael nodded. "Just remember, don't leave him alone."

"No problem. Don't stay up much longer, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Raphael answered, not meaning it at all. He'd go to sleep after he cleared the path to their front door. And cleaned the blood from the sword he was using. And swept most of the blood away. And took a shower.

Lingering by the door, he waited until Donatello had fallen asleep curled up against Leonardo, then left the lights low before he left. And as tired as he was, he made a quick sweep of the lair just to make sure they were all safe before going back to work. The peace of mind knowing that they were okay made the exhaustion worth it.


	17. Chapter 17

"--the death toll may still rise, but authorities say that things could have been much worse. Rapid deployment of emergency response teams, as well as local troop units, left untold numbers of these strange monsters dead throughout the city."

The soft drone of the new anchor's voice woke Leonardo. Stretched out on the sofa, he watched the blue tint cast by the screens' light flickering on the table and floor. His brother, Michelangelo today, napped on the nearby recliner. The remote lay on the floor beneath his little brother's hand.

"If I could just interrupt, Senator, we have a press conference--can we go to the--?"

The screen flashed and the sound changed pitch as the program moved from a studio to several reporters clustered around someone on the street. Leonardo let his eyes close, barely aware that someone had dropped a cover over him sometime while he slept, when a familiar voice woke him completely.

"There are still pockets of the creatures around the city, so people who are unarmed should remain indoors," Chanta said, her plastic good looks contrasted by the blood spatters on her green uniform and the firearms holstered at her side. "If anyone knows of any nests of these things, please call 911 to report it. We'll be going door to door throughout the city to make sure we get every last one of these fucks."

No censoring bleep covered her cursing. Knowing someone was out there destroying the bad things in the night was comforting enough that no one noticed. He had to squint through the light even though the televisions had been dimmed a little to accommodate his eyesight, but he felt reassured seeing his old comrade alive and well. Behind her he spotted several more men and women in uniform, among them a familiar black face in dreadlocks herding groups back and forth. He'd never seen Felix in uniform before and the amount of brass and metal on it surprised him.

"We'll release more information as we learn it," Chanta said, beginning to step back from the cameras. "We do wish to thank everyone who's been working with us, both seen and unseen, our unsung heroes doing their part to destroy these things. We couldn't have done this without you."

The last bit was delivered in a soft voice, the same one she used when she fought beside him in Stockman's game, and he half-smiled. No doubt they knew about the sunken ship by now. He wondered if they would explore the wreck and salvage any machinery on board, or if they would simply destroy it even more thoroughly. He didn't care either way. They hadn't misused Stockman's original pocket dimension. Perhaps the army could make sure that Stockman didn't come back one last time.

His mask lay draped on the arm of the sofa. Since he didn't think he'd fall asleep again soon, he slipped it on and adjusted the black lenses over his eyes, sitting up slowly as he did. The light comfortably dimmed, and he sighed in relief.

He didn't know what time it was. He didn't really care. With Michaelangelo asleep and the lair silent, he felt grateful for the rest. Donatello and Raphael were out again, probably hunting down more raw material for Donatello to use repairing the lair. Rough gouges from demon claws stood out prominently the floor now that Raphael had cleaned up the mess. The scent of blood lingered throughout the lair, though less perceptible to his siblings than himself, and they all wanted it washed away and patched up completely. He wondered if they'd want him to paint over the fresh plaster. Maybe he'd use that childlike dragon idea Michelangelo had--

Leonardo breathed in sharply.

Michelangelo's mural. He'd promised ages ago that he would create something on the side of his little brother's room. How long ago was that? All the way back at the farm. He winced. How could he have forgotten?

After a moment reflecting, he shrugged. Life threatening injuries and mental instability were pretty good excuses. But he was doing better now. No excuse now.

He glanced at Michelangelo as he eased off of the couch. His little brother lay slumped in the recliner with a comic book across his lap. From the looks of him, he wouldn't be waking up any time soon. Once he grabbed his mask from the floor, Leonardo crept out of the living room and up the stairs, putting his good hand over the stitches crisscrossing his shoulder. Donatello had threatened him with total rest if he pulled even one stitch out. He would just have to take it slow.

Plenty of paint cans remained in his bedroom. He'd planned on completing his mural of New York Harbor on his wall later on, but he could always get more paint. He grabbed a full can of green in his good arm, but as he started to stand, he froze. It put far too much strain on his injuries. With no one around, he could admit it and set the can down, reaching instead for a half-empty can. Much easier. He could even take a few brushes with him.

If he didn't want to wake his brother, he couldn't turn on the lights in his room, but fortunately he didn't need to. He knew this shade of green. A few candles in the corners would work fine, especially with his eyes.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, "I don't have to finish this today. Just get it started."

If he was lucky, when his brothers saw that he could paint without hurting himself, they would let him do that instead of forcing him to sleep most of the day. He began slow out of necessity rather than choice. His right arm from his fingers to his shoulder was too sore to move much, so he had to paint with his left. It didn't affect the outcome too much, since he was used to fighting with both hands, but he was glad Michelangelo had wanted a more simplistic dragon.

The outline came to him quickly. He'd practiced dragons long enough that their basic shape flowed out of his hand, changing only their positions. This one began in the center of the wall, its tail coiled near the floor, while its body shot up in sharp waves. Claws reached up to the sky where Leonardo imagined he'd put the sun later on. Two horns curled away from its head while its long snout pointed up.

Once that was done, he set down his first brush and picked up a second, thinner one. Although he used the same paint, he used a lighter hand to begin the details of swirls around its claws. He didn't look forward to the scales, but Chinese dragons had their own embellishments that made them worth the endless little loops. Ridges and flourishes along the back and around the claws like ribbons, the jaws that looked like they were laughing...his back was sore when he finished the outline. He lightly touched the stitches to make sure they weren't bleeding.

How long had he been working? The low drone of the televisions hadn't stopped, so he figured it couldn't have been long. He stared at the dragon to figure out what to do next. Start on the background, he decided, the unicorn, bunnies and garden that his brother wanted. But he'd need the rest of the paint cans for that.

The moment he started to turn away from the wall, his right leg twisted underneath him. He gasped more out of surprise than pain. It didn't feel like an old injury flaring up and his new cuts weren't nearly that severe.

Someone caught him before he could drop too far. Embarrassed at being caught, both from falling and for being out of bed, he sighed when he realized that whoever had him wasn't letting him go.

"I can stand on my own," he grumbled.

"Doesn't look like it," Raphael said. He bent and slung Leonardo's good arm over his shoulder. "C'mon, let's go back downstairs."

Leonardo groaned at the thought of managing those steps. "Can't I just sleep up here?"

"Where? My hammock, your mat, Don's second story bed or Mike's pizza crust magnet?" Raphael waited for him to adjust to his grip before leading the way out. "The couch is still the best spot."

"And speaking of the couch," Donatello said, leaning on the doorframe. "Who said you could come up here?"

"I got bored," Leonardo said, refusing to feel shame over using an excuse that drove him nuts when Michelangelo used it. "And you didn't say I couldn't. You just said not to tear the stitches out."

Donatello's eyes half-closed as he tried to remember exactly what he'd said before he left. When he couldn't think of anything helpful, he rolled his eyes.

"Tch. Fine. You're not allowed upstairs unless one of us is with you."

As they passed him, Leonardo paused. "Wait...what do you mean?"

Before he answered, Donatello gave his injuries a quick look to make sure he wasn't bleeding again. "I think I can ok you to come up here and work on the mural. It looks like it'd be good for you. You just have to have someone with you to make sure you don't overdo it again."

Leonardo sighed as they headed down. "I hate being watched."

"Huh?" Raphael gave him a look. "You didn't seem to mind just now."

Leonardo's stomach twisted up as his mind put fumbled to a realization. "Oh no...you two were watching? For how long?"

"Since we came back and found you and Mike missing," Donatello answered. "So that's about...an hour. Mike was watching until he went to make dinner."

"That explains why he shushed us when we came in," Raphael said over his increasingly annoyed brother. "I forgot you get weird about what you paint. Hey Don, did you know he refuses to hear what April sells 'em for?"

"You're kidding," Donatello said. "Was this before or after his head injuries?"

Brothers. Leonardo bore up under their comments as best he could as Raphael dragged him back to the living room and gently dropped him on the couch. The soft cushions welcomed back, and he groaned in relief as his body lost some of the stress and tension that had nearly sent him to the floor. As Raphael disappeared into the kitchen, Donatello came and sat on the edge of the couch, pulling the blanket over him.

"You can't keep pushing yourself this hard," Donatello said. "I know that your injuries weren't as bad this time around, but you still took the brunt of the punishment again and it keeps adding up."

"Didn't feel it," Leonardo said. "I didn't even feel tired 'till I fell. Still don't."

"Let me guess, you just feel a little shaky and lightheaded. Maybe like you can't focus." Donatello didn't give him the chance to reply. "You're exhausted. You know how we always need some downtime after a fight? You need downtime. I'm thinking three times as long as it took to get you to this point."

Leonardo gasped and sat up. "No way! Three years? Are you out of your mind?"

"What? No, not three--oh, oh I see where you got that number. No." Donatello smiled and did his best to smother his laughter. "I meant from when you got that bite. Not three years. Probably three weeks, I think. Maybe a little longer if you do something stupid."

Three weeks couldn't go by fast enough, Leonardo thought. But he didn't complain. He'd put his siblings through hell these past few days. After expecting to die in a bloody steel trap, suffering a few quips didn't feel so bad.

"Did you find anything topside?" he asked to change the subject.

"Yup," Donatello said, nodding at a far corner of the lair. "Got some concrete to patch up the floor, a ton of cleaners and disinfectants, and some stronger steel for around the bridge."

"I don't think anything's going to come up there again," Leonardo said. "You probably don't need to block it again."

Donatello looked over his shoulder at the bridge with a sigh. "I dunno. Every time I look at it, I think something big and awful is going to claw its way up. I want something over it."

About to respond, Leonardo instinctively tensed as someone slammed the oven door shut.

"Okay," Michelangelo called from the kitchen, "who wants pepperoni?"

As the lair filled with his brothers' chatter, Leonardo found himself relaxing more and more. Even when Raphael dropped a plate in front of him and gave him that familiar stubborn look not to argue about eating, Leonardo found that he didn't feel the same level of anxiety about being around his siblings as he did even a week ago. He'd always felt like he couldn't fail or show any weakness in front of them. He was the big brother. He had to be perfect all the time.

His world turned upside down when his brothers let him occasionally fail. So it was doubly surprising when that also felt like it'd put his world right-side up.

"Can we turn off the news?" Michelangelo asked as he plopped down on the floor. "It's just them cleaning up now."

"I kinda wanted to see if they'd try to raise the ship," Donatello said. "But I guess we could get Leo to call Felix later and just ask."

"Cool," Michelangelo said, flipping through the channels faster than anyone else in the room could follow.

"Forget it, it's a Tuesday night," Raphael said. "Nothing good on."

"I think History channel was doing a Lost Civilizations marathon," Donatello said.

"Well," Raphael said, "that's one way of putting us all to sleep."

"Better than your horror movie marathons," Leonardo mumbled.

As Raphael turned to argue, Michelangelo knelt on the floor and fumbled around under the sofa for a moment. He batted away two cat toys, a screwdriver and a throwing star before pulling out a little tattered box. The deck of playing cards inside were in good shape, though.

"Name the stakes, gentlemen," Michelangelo said as he shuffled them on the low coffee table. "Unless you know where the poker chips are."

"I think we lost those when Raph embedded half of them in the wall," Leonardo said.

"You shouldn't have dared me," Raphael tried to defend himself.

"It wasn't a dare. I put up a target and you just happened to be putting the chips away--"

"We can play for change," Donatello said. "I've got a couple jars of spare change I haven't given April."

While Donatello briefly left the room, Raphael disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Michelangelo alone shuffling the deck, spilling the cards across the table, and gathering them up again.

"Hey, Leo," Michelangelo said, finally getting the cards back in a pile. "How long does it usually take to paint a dragon?"

Leonardo sat straight and set his plate down on top of Raphael's on the floor. "Two or three nights. If I can only work an hour at a time, though, it's probably going to take a few weeks. Not including the background."

"Dude, can I watch?" Michelangelo asked. "I mean, I know you don't like it, but it was so cool sitting there and you didn't seem to mind much this time. Please?"

Not mentioning that he hadn't noticed because of how tired he was, Leonardo also didn't mention how he'd need someone with him if he was going to work on that mural at all. He ruefully smiled at his little brother's exuberance and nodded once.

"Sure. It'll be nice to have someone there with me."

"Man," Raphael said as he came back in. "Tell you one thing. It's gonna be nice not having practice for a little while."

"Finally we get a break," Michelangelo said. "I'm so looking forward to kicking back playing video games for a week."

Almost arguing out of sheer habit, Leonardo stopped himself before he said anything. Why shouldn't they have a break? They'd saved the city, themselves, him...like Donatello said, they needed some downtime.

Leonardo glanced at the door to his master's room. For the past few days he hadn't seen Splinter at all. The absence, while something of a relief, also made him more and more anxious as the days passed. If Splinter demanded that they return to their usual schedule of practicing...

He shook his head. That had to stop that before it even began. Which meant that he had to speak with his master soon, and alone. He didn't think his siblings were going to like that idea. Not that he was looking forward to it either.

"Okay," Michelangelo said. "Poker. One eyed jacks wild. And no eating the cards if you get pissed, Raph."

Leonardo laughed despite himself. Right now he was playing poker with his brothers. He could worry about everything else later.


	18. Chapter 18

Candle glow colored the table and bookshelves golden red with deep shadows. The incense bowl lay before Splinter, smoke curling in wisps like a thin screen between then. Quietly as always, Leonardo whispered in and shut the door behind him with the faintest click of the latch.

As he sat down, he tried to remember the last time he had knelt before his master. He couldn't. Too much time had passed and he wasn't the same person. He met Splinter's look. Was his father the same person?

The silence stretched. Leonardo knew this game. Sit quietly, speak when spoken to, and leave when dismissed. But he wouldn't allow it. Splinter's stern admonissions, his disappointment and his unwavering demands seemed to float up with the smoke. A surge of anger twisted in his stomach.

Leonardo looked up, his eyes unreadable behind the darkened lenses. He had given up so much to come to this point. Normal sight, peaceful dreams, a relationship with his family that was predictable if nothing else... He steeled himself. He had not lost those things in vain. He could do this, and he started speaking before Splinter could.

"I'm not who you think I am," he said. "I never was."

Silence. Whether that was because his master disagreed or was angry that Leonardo had spoken out of turn-he couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

"I'm not a tool," Leonardo kept going. He'd rehearsed what he wanted to say, but now that he was here, surrounded by candlelight and the familiar smoke, his thoughts came out stilted and hesitant.

"I'm not a weapon, I'm not a shield for them. I'm more than 'the one that keeps them safe'." He forced himself to keep eye contact. If he broke away now, he'd falter. "I'm not as smart, or open, or even as powerful as they are, but I'm not a guardian for them, either. I won't be a sacrifice."

At the word 'sacrifice', the incense popped and hissed out. Splinter picked up another stick, gently touching the tip to the candle. Leonardo felt a touch of relief as the focus fell to something besides him, even if only for a moment.

"I never meant to hurt you," Splinter said as the censer burned again.

The old anger made Leonardo tremble-Of course you did-but he battled it down and bit off his own voice. Getting mad was useless now. That fight was done with.

"No. But I did. Because I didn't know myself," Leonardo said. "No one knew me. I fell apart and then no one knew how to put me back together again. Like a puzzle, and we had the wrong picture."

"You didn't know who you were," Splinter said, questioning him without heat, as if he were holding back his own emotional strain. "Then how do you know what you are now?"

"I was told what I am by many people," Leonardo murmured. "I've been told I'm acting out of character or like an animal. That everything I'm doing is wrong."

Splinter nodded once. So Leonardo understood his concerns, even if he refused to agree with him.

"I will decide what is out of character," Leonardo said, looking through his mask's empty black eyes. "I will decide if I'm wrong or right."

Again, silence. Splinter remembered the drawings he'd found, Leonardo's secret images of his family pressed to paper like memories. Splinter had looked like a monstrous giant eating his young, and he wondered-no, he was sure that was what Leonardo saw right now.

"And if those decisions hurt your brothers?" Splinter asked without anger.

"I can't live like that," Leonardo said. "Crushing myself, second guessing. We can't live like that anymore."

Splinter exhaled. He'd seen this mood on Leonardo before, this stubborn streak that refused to bend or break. There was no fighting it when it came upon him. Splinter would simply wait and see if the streak ended, but he began to doubt that it would. Leonardo had dragged his family through his personal hell and back simply because he'd lost his balance, and now he returned with a balance that Splinter didn't like.

But Leonardo refused to give up his new balance, having won it after so many sacrifices. Splinter had no choice. He would wait and hope his eldest son didn't drag them into the ground this time.

"I hope this new life suits you," he said softly. "The risks are great."

Leonardo leaned back, not realizing how he'd set his shoulders and neck so forcefully. He'd been prepared for a full assault, and Splinter's uneasy acceptance made him feel lightheaded.

"It's the only way," he replied.

Neither of them spoke again. The conversation Leonardo had dreaded for days-it had felt like years, even-was done. He nodded respectfully and stood, leaving as quietly as he came. The scents of incense and smoke and melted wax faded as he left them behind, making his way upstairs.

His footsteps felt light, and as he walked with his head high, back straight, he felt as if his muscles were slowly unknotting themselves. He didn't think this argument was over, but for now he'd won a key battle.

Paint. That would clear his head.

Back in Michelangelo's room again, he lost himself in adding to the dragon. The paint went on the wall a little easier today, and he expected that it would go on easier tomorrow. His arm no longer screamed when he lifted it, and the bite wound on his throat and shoulder pulled less and less with time.

Sometimes he felt less like himself and more like a walking collection of scars. Not that they didn't have their own scars-Michelangelo's playing around in a fight worked their opponents into a froth that sometimes bit him back, and Donatello...Leonardo sighed. They didn't always cover Donatello well enough as he worked. And Raphael-well, any berserker would get scars.

He hoped his scars faded over time. They pulled whenever he moved so that he felt them constantly.

Footsteps came up the stairs. They were ninja soft, but Michelangelo could never get rid of that last bit of noise.

"You snuck off on me," Michelangelo said, coming in with a handful of pizza and soda. "Bad Leo. No cookie."

"Don says I'm not allowed cookies anyway," Leonardo grumbled.

"Yeah, well, what Don don't know..." Michelangelo let his voice trail off and held up a box of chocolate chip. "Promise not to disappear if I nod off again?"

"Promise. Toss," Leonardo said, and it wasn't quite an order, wasn't quite a request. He caught the first one with his free hand and let his sore arm complain all it liked.

"Almost done yet?" Michelangelo asked.

His little brother lay back in bed and watched, but his eyes were still drowsy. He'd probably fall asleep soon. They'd all been recovering from their ordeal on the ship. April had compared it to a car accident. "You're still sore and achy for days afterward."

"I'm maybe halfway," Leonardo said. "The dragon's almost done. It just needs its scales and accents finished. Then I finish the background."

Michelangelo looked over the pieces that Leonardo had pencilled in. A family of bunny rabbits, a unicorn in a field, some birds of paradise flying over head. It felt like a sliver of sunlight cutting into his room. As he watched, Leonardo added a swirl to the dragon's eyes, giving a light to them that made the creature seem alive.

"Geez," Michelangelo breathed. "That's awesome how you do that."

Smiling but hiding it by turning away, Leonardo added another highlight to the claws to give them a sharp edge. "It's nothing special."

"Yeah it is," Michelangelo said. "I swear that thing's gonna fly off the wall."

Leonardo was spared finding a way to reply to the compliment by the sound of the front door. They both froze, relaxing when they heard their brothers' voices downstairs. The sound of dragging steel and a heavy thump told them they'd salvaged plenty of supplies.

"Hey, you guys upstairs?" Raphael called.

"We're here!" Michelangelo yelled.

Wincing at the noise, Leonardo set aside his brushes in water and capped the paints. He didn't want to try to work with three people watching him, and besides, good scavenging meant dinner.

"You're not gonna help them?" Leonardo asked.

Michelangelo grinned and picked up one of his comics. "I'm watching over you, ain't I? I'm sure they've got it."

The hum of the microwave and a quick 'ding' told them it didn't matter. Their siblings were almost done downstairs anyway. Leonardo chose a seat beside Michelangelo on the bed and leaned against him, yawning as he read the comic book over his shoulder. He hadn't read one in ages, and he'd always liked-

"Wait," Leonardo mumbled. "Since when does Robin wear that costume?"

Michelangelo grinned. "You've been out of the loop for awhile, big bro'."

As Michelangelo explained, Leonardo let his voice drift into a comfortable background whisper. Ever since being stuck in Stockman's game, the lair had been full of creeping noises, but with his little brother there, the constant drips and skitters of unseen insects faded away into nothing. Funny how real silence only settled in his head when he was with his chatterbox brother.

And if he slept more often with a sibling each night, sharing Michelangelo's pile of mattresses, Raphael's hammock or Donatello's bed, none of them teased him for acting like a kid again. Their heartbeats, soft breathing and occasional shifting reassured him when nightmares woke him. After the echoes of claws on steel dragged him awake, much like nails on a chalkboard, he would lie awake in the pitch darkness, staring at the pipes over their head and listening to his brother's heartbeat.

In the rare instances that he accidentally woke one of them up, he listened to them whispering that he was safe and at home. And with a slow nod, perhaps a shaky breath, he'd lie down again and force himself to close his eyes. And if they noticed that he was curled up closer against them, they didn't tease.

* * *

The night was eerily quiet. Even the typical sounds of New York at night-cars on the bridge, late night tv and the distant ocean-faded into the cool wind pushing a newspaper down the street. The street had to be deserted for them to feel safe, and yet the empty sidewalks reminded them of the when Stockman's monsters ran loose.

"All clear?" Raphael asked, softly calling up to the roof.

Perched on top of the tattoo parlor, Michelangelo scanned the neighborhood one more time and nodded. Then he sat down on the edge and opened one of the take-out boxes beside him.

"He better not eat everything," Donatello said, sparing Michelangelo a glance as he helped Leonardo set out a handful of paint against the wall.

"He won't," Raphael said, coming up beside him, but he glared at Michelangelo knowing he might. "If nothing else, he'll leave Leo's portion."

Kneeling by the paint, Leonardo heard them and sighed as he picked out the brush he wanted. "True. He's kinda overprotective lately."

Raphael and Donatello shared a look but didn't reply. Instead they climbed up onto their van, parked along the sidewalk, which gave them a comfortable view of Leonardo's work.

"You sure you're gonna be okay with us watching?" Raphael asked. "You've been touchy about it before."

Leonardo half-shrugged. His wounded shoulder pulled against the growing scar, and he mentally noted that he wouldn't be able to hold his right arm high for very long. Best to work on the base of the mural and work his way up over the week.

"I'll be fine," he replied. "You've been watching me finish up at home. And having you here means I don't have to keep a watch out."

Donatello glanced back and forth down the empty street. He supposed someone might walk through here, but the night was quiet and calm. They'd hear anyone coming a block away.

"Sounds easy enough," Donatello said, sparing a pointed look at Michelangelo and raising his hands as if about to catch a baseball.

Taking the hint, Michelangelo sighed and tossed down several takeout bags, one after the other. Donatello caught them easily, setting them on the roof beside himself and opening one.

"We've really gotta start cooking," Raphael sighed, digging out an eggroll. "I'm getting sick of Chinese every night."

"You wanna be the cook?" Donatello asked. "Besides..." He waved once toward Leonardo but didn't say anything, knowing their big brother could hear every word. "Everyone likes it. Even Mikey ends up eating his vegetables."

Raphael nodded once. For some reason, Leonardo could eat Sam's Cantonese Cuisine without any problems. They'd all force down a thousand eggrolls if it meant he didn't starve.

On the roof, Michelangelo stretched and jumped to the streetlamp, sliding down enough to leap onto the van. He landed with the faintest metallic thump, which earned him annoyed looks from the other three, especially as he dug into another take out bag, ignoring the rustling paper.

Michelangelo's eating masked the sound of a charcoal pencil scratching an outline on the bricks.

"So what're you drawing tonight?" Michelangelo asked around mouthfuls of rice.

"Statue of Liberty," Leonardo said, nodding once at the harbor. "Been practicing, but this time I have to draw in the water, too."

Raphael smiled at the hesitance in his voice. "Haven't sketched the ocean much, huh?"

"It's hard," Leonardo said. He paused, lowering his hand from where he'd drawn the first basic lines of her pedestal. "I don't see the light reflected like I used to. I'm afraid it's gonna look weird."

"We should go up to the bridge," Michelangelo said. "Maybe take an hour or two so you get a good view. Just as a refresher, of course."

With his chopsticks, Donatello reached over and stole one of his chicken bits. "And the ice cream shop on the corner wouldn't hurt either, huh?"

"While we're there, we might as well," Michelangelo grinned.

They were willing to take the risk of escorting him near the open water? Leonardo smiled, then remembered he was horribly self-conscious about them watching him practice. He knew it was silly. They'd seen him practice katas in the dojo with all his mistakes, sprawling awkwardly on the floor when he landed wrong, the occasional stupid self-inflicted cut, and the times he stumbled over his own exhausted feet. Why was it so terrible that they watch him practice with a pencil instead of a sword?

"You don't mind?" he asked. "It'll take awhile. An hour, maybe."

"More fun than working out in the dojo," Raphael said.

Beside him, Donatello nodded. "It's good to take a night off. And this is cool. I haven't just sat back and looked up at the sky in ages."

They all nodded. So easy for the humans to take that simple pleasure for granted, but living underground gave them a sharp appreciation for open air and clouds over the moon. Even the breeze was a rare luxury.

Leonardo looked up, wincing slightly at the moonlight. He wanted to ask Donatello if he thought he might ever see normally again, but he didn't say anything. Donatello was no miracle worker, and his brother had already said that there was a chance he would slowly lose his feeder genetics. It was just his own nerves that made him keep asking.

After all, his claws were gone. The feeder instincts were fading. He would hold out hope that his proper eyesight would return and he would one day see the sun again.

Later on, when Leonardo's arm was too sore to keep working, the paint disappeared before he could ask, swiftly carried into the van by his siblings so he wouldn't have to. He didn't know whether to frown or smile. Their ready help felt strange after a lifetime of having to nudge them to work. Of course they would still treat him like something fragile, but he wanted to balk and show them that he could take care of himself.

Not that it completely true, he thought. He needed the help, and he told himself he was lucky to be allowed out. Yes, allowed. They tried to give him some space as they hovered, but they never moved more than a few feet away for fear that he'd try to vanish again. Their constant vigilance was aggravating and reassuring at once.

"Could be worse," Michelangelo whispered in his ear, coming up beside him. "We could've locked you up at home."

As he climbed into the van with him, Leonardo shot him a look but didn't answer. Of course his little brother noticed his discomfort, and of course he had a point. But his sing song teasing and the fact that he'd be locked up reading comics and eating ice cream and ramen noodles made it easier to swallow.

They spent more than an hour at the docks, listening as the waves brushed under the creaking wood where they sat, watching the city lights play on the water. Leonardo's pencil worked across his tablet, creating shapes that slowly turned into reflections and heat waves. Michelangelo looked over his shoulder, glancing back and forth between the paper and the water.

"You've done this before, right?" Michelangelo whispered.

"Sometimes, when I could see better," Leonardo said, looking over the sketch again. "Is it that bad?"

"No," Michelangelo said. "It's just...it's like it's moving. If I tilt my head, it's like the water moves."

"Really?" Leonardo couldn't help the pleased note in his voice. Maybe his poor eyesight wasn't such a handicap after all.

He turned to ask Michelangelo if the sketch wasn't too dark and found his little brother wrestling with Raphael, biting off the top of his cherry sundae. Next to them, Donatello laughed and grabbed Michelangelo's remaining cone, and the three of them wrangled with each other while staying balanced along the edge of the dock.

Flipping the page in his sketchbook, Leonardo made quick, long strokes, hasty circles, roughed in centerlines for the eyes and erased the stick figure lines to add muscles. They shifted, falling backwards onto the dock, and he added the new position, leaving the first lines like an echo.

They suddenly froze when they realized none of them were watching Leonardo, and at the edge of the ocean no less. He laughed at their wide eyes as they all looked, relaxing when they saw he was still there. While Michelangelo finished the rest of Raphael's sundae and lost his cone between the slats in the pier, Leonardo took the moment to finish his own before they remembered he had ice cream. As expected, Michelangelo came crawling towards him, checking if his cup of rocky road, coffee and maple walnut was empty.

"Whoa..." Michelangelo whispered as he spotted his pad. "You just did that? Dudes, check this out!"

Leonardo reflexively tried to pull his drawing back, giving in as Michelangelo tugged it clear. Raphael crept up behind Leonardo, one hand on his shoulder as if to make sure his brother couldn't slide into the water, and Donatello peeked over Michelangelo's shoulder. There was a brief few seconds of silence.

"You're gonna put yourself in there too, right?" Donatello asked.

Leonardo looked at the image. If he added himself, he'd look like a calm outsider looking in on a rush of motion. His reluctance must have shown, because Raphael laughed once and tapped the free space along side.

"Might be hard," Raphael said. "He'd be sitting, staring at the ocean, drawing like crazy, then making sure we didn't get any of his ice cream..."

Raphael shot him a look at that, but Leonardo didn't notice. He tilted his head and stared at the picture again. His brother was right. He wasn't really all that still, come to think of it. In his own way, he was as energetic as the rest of them. He nodded once.

"Yeah..." he said softly. "I'll add myself in."

He slowly traced himself in, forced to put himself in closer than he thought he should because of the edge. At first he was staring out at the ocean, then he was drawing, then he was eating ice cream and he had to add in Michelangelo creeping close. That meant adding Raphael in behind him and Donatello beside him, and suddenly the ghostly images blended and merged until he couldn't tell where they all ended and where he began.

They were a tangle, a satisfying tangle.


End file.
